


Being Yours

by DaughterofPrussia



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2020-09-07 21:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20316373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterofPrussia/pseuds/DaughterofPrussia
Summary: This is a short piece, telling the wonderful story of the German movie “sms für Dich” (”sms for you”) in an Outlander version. Unlike my other stories, which are all WiP, this story is already finished. Every Monday evening at 10:00 pm (Berlin time) there will be a new chapter (first the German version, then the English translation).





	1. Back to the Future

“Liebe” by [Takmeomeo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fh%25C3%25A4nde-liebe-paar-zusammen-finger-437968%2F&t=NWY4YjBkYzJmM2ZkN2Q0N2QzNTA5MzkyOWRjMGEyMjJlN2ZmYjhmMixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

October 22, 2022 was a wet and cold Friday. It was the day Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp returned. Back to Berlin. Back to the place that had determined her past. Back to the place that would determine her future. But she didn’t know anything about the latter yet.

About two years earlier she had left the city. _No_, that wasn’t right. About two years earlier she had _fled_ the city. _That_ was the right way to describe it. Not for long, and the day of the terrible event, the event that had turned her whole life upside down would repeat itself for the second time. (But that was not the reason for her return.)

It was November 14, 2020. A cold, wet, grey day. Winter had come to Berlin early - as usual. Its cold had caused the lakes to freeze. It had driven people away from the squares and covered the streets with a layer of ice as thin as glass. 

“Glienicker Brücke / Berlin im Winter” by [kgPo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fwinter-glienicker-br%25C3%25BCcke-potsdam-2497551%2F&t=ZTBhNzk5NmU1MTE5OGExNzNlNjdmMDBlNTFlMzI5ODc3NjMzNzk1YixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

It was that Saturday night when Claire and Frank had gotten into a heated argument. She had taken a day off especially for that evening and it hadn’t been easy to convince her young colleague, Dr. Johannes Frings, to swap the day in the surgical department of the Charité with her. Everyone who worked there knew that the weekends were particularly labor-intensive. 

Frank had promised her for quite some time that they would finally go out again, go to a cinema and have a nice meal somewhere special afterward. She had been looking forward to it, yes, looking forward to this evening. And she had hoped. Hoped that this evening would take their relationship a step further. A big step.

For three years [Dr. phil.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FDoctor_%28title%29%23Germany&t=OTIzN2I4NjMyNmUzYzlkNTg2YjA2YjU4OGE5NzE4ZGE3MDI1ZjE0OSxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1) Frank Randall and she were in a committed relationship. Two years ago they were engaged with each other. It was time for them to finally get married and get their act together. Both of them didn’t get any younger and if they wanted to have children, they finally had to get married. It was the legal situation in the Federal Republic of Germany, that was to blame for this.  
  
A few months after their engagement they had discovered that Frank was incapable of procreation. For both of them, the result of the medical test was devastating news. Claire wanted children, but for Frank, this meant more, much more. He didn’t just want children, he wanted an heir. In his thinking, the continuation of his own family line took a prominent place. It took several weeks until Frank had overcome the devastating news to some extent. Then, after night-long discussions, they had agreed that they would make use of a sperm donation. But it was necessary for them to be married first.

Claire, as a doctor, had worked her way into the legal requirements: In the Federal Republic of Germany, the [Embryo Protection Act](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.rki.de%2FSharedDocs%2FGesetzestexte%2FEmbryonenschutzgesetz_englisch.pdf%3Bjsessionid%3DEFA6C8DF3A6059CED8B568A8D423FFA1.2_cid372%3F__blob%3DpublicationFile&t=OGU4NGI5N2JhZDY3M2JlZGE2ZDBlOWE4MGZmMjA5NWJiNmEzOGNhNSxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1) applied. It is a federal law and that meant that it had to be observed by all German sperm banks on the legal side. In addition to this law, the guidelines of the [Federal Chamber of Medical Doctors](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FGerman_Medical_Association&t=NDBmNjc4MWIyMzJjYmFmYTlkNmYwODczMDcwZDI1YWMzZDMxOGRmMSxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1) also applied. Their guidelines established legally non-binding criteria. Nevertheless, the guidelines drawn up by the Federal Chamber of Medical Doctors are part of the professional code of conduct for German physicians and are therefore binding on them. Although the Embryo Protection Act itself did not specify the marital status of persons who had access to a sperm bank, a directive of the Federal Chamber of Medical Doctors contained the requirement that only married persons or persons living in a fixed partnership (however one should document that) had access to a sperm bank. The first step on the way to artificial insemination and thus to a family of one’s own was, therefore, the way to the registry office. But Frank had postponed a conversation about that topic again and again. Claire couldn’t make any sense of it. But she hoped that this evening would finally bring clarity.

But then _that_ call had come. Claire, standing in the bathroom in front of the mirror and checking her makeup again, heard Frank’s smartphone playing “God Save the Queen”. He accepted the call and shortly afterward stood in the bathroom door. With his eyes lowered to the ground, he told her that he - unfortunately - had to cancel their evening together. He had to return to the embassy immediately for an urgent matter and would probably not be able to return until the next day.

“Britische Botschaft Berlin” by Hans Peter Schäfer [via Wikimedia Commons](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fcommons.wikimedia.org%2Fwiki%2FFile%3ABerlin_britische_botschaft.jpg%23%2Fmedia%2FFile%3ABerlin_britische_botschaft.jpg&t=NWQ5NzhlODI4NDVkNTI0NTc5MTYzODk5Zjc5ZTU3YzQ3N2IwZDNlYyxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

_** [Dr. phil.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FDoctor_%28title%29%23Germany&t=OTIzN2I4NjMyNmUzYzlkNTg2YjA2YjU4OGE5NzE4ZGE3MDI1ZjE0OSxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1) Frank Wolverton Randall**_, born September 3, 1980, was a respected and award-winning military historian from Oxford.  
His work focused on research into the various Scottish uprisings against the central London government in the 18th century. These uprisings had not only been the subject of his doctoral thesis, but he had also written a number of books and scientific publications on them. Colleagues had then given him a nickname. He was called “the apologist of the Duke of Cumberland”. This representative of the King in Scotland had made a name for himself as [“the butcher of Culloden”](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FPrince_William%2C_Duke_of_Cumberland&t=N2YwYTM1Mjk4OTMyYjJmNjhmMThhNTI1ZWRlMGI3ZGEwMzQ0Zjk1MyxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1). Frank Randall’s clearly pro-royal position on the events of 1746 had not stood in the way of his career. On the contrary. His reputation and expertise had paved the way for him to be asked in 2014 whether he was willing to serve as a [military attaché](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FMilitary_attach%25C3%25A9&t=NTVjZWNjZGY5MjI4MmVjMDE2MTc5MzUwMzE2OTc1MzkyMDA3ZmVkMyxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1) at Her Majesty the Queen’s Embassy in Berlin. Frank, who had nothing that anchored him in England, and who could make a career leap with his diplomatic appointment to the German capital (which, incidentally, he had never thought possible), immediately agreed. Already in January 2015, he moved from Oxford to Berlin. In England, he left behind only one cousin, Alex. Frank’s parents had already died years ago and apart from Alex he had no other relatives. There were some women with whom he had closer relationships … but basically Frank didn’t feel really deep for any of them. It was not difficult for him to leave his old life behind.

Arriving in Berlin he threw himself into his new task with full vigor. On weekdays he worked in the embassy. Using all his strength, he managed to familiarize himself with his new task at an admirable pace. He enjoyed the atmosphere of the diplomatic circles, but especially he enjoyed that he could wear his uniform again every day. 

But the weekends continued to belong to his great passion: the study of history. It was this passion that led him again and again to the numerous museums in Berlin and to the famous Museum Island. During one of these visits, in the early summer of 2015, Frank had met [Dr. mult.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FDoctor_%28title%29%23Germany&t=OTIzN2I4NjMyNmUzYzlkNTg2YjA2YjU4OGE5NzE4ZGE3MDI1ZjE0OSxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1) Lambert Beauchamp. 

“Berlin, Germany, Museumsinsel, overview: tactile model for blind people” by   
[Roland.h.bueb](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fcommons.wikimedia.org%2Fwiki%2FUser%3ARoland.h.bueb&t=ODI3YWY0NzBmZWMwY2FlODhmYzYxYzNmYTAzODM4YjExZTUwZWEzYSxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1) via [Wikimedia Commons](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fcommons.wikimedia.org%2Fwiki%2FFile%3ABerlin-museumsinsel-%25C3%25BCbersicht-tastmodell.JPG&t=Mjg3ZWZkZDc4ODMzMTM4MGU0YTkyOWE1MzNhODkxM2Q5MzQ3N2ZiOCxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

The respected Berlin Egyptologist and archaeologist, a descendant of Huguenots who fled France more than 300 years ago, worked in one of the museums on the museum island and taught as a professor at the Humboldt University. Frank couldn’t even remember how the conversation between them had begun. The deep impression that Lambert Beauchamp had made on him, on the other hand, was still very present to him years later. It was not only the comprehensive knowledge and the way he conveyed it that made Lambert Beauchamp so interesting. Rather, Frank was impressed by the personal life story of the highly educated older gentleman with nickel glasses, beard and pipe, and even more by the family history of the Beauchamps. 

Lambert Beauchamp was the last male representative of one of Berlin’s most respected Huguenot families. His ancestors came from the [Arrondissement Argenteuil](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FArrondissement_of_Argenteuil&t=MjZmMDg0OTcwOTdkNDQ4NWJlN2ZmOTllZTdjOTY3MDMzODQyNDA3ZSxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1), which lies only a few kilometers northwest of Paris and whose inhabitants are called[Beauchampois(es)](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FBeauchamp%2C_Val-d%2527Oise&t=NzY0OTEzZWY2Yjc2ZGVkM2RmODFlZjQ5ZWFmOWJmYTcwZDFmNGM3MCxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1) until today. The persecution by the French State and the Catholic Church of France had driven them, like more than 250.000 other Huguenots, out of the country. In 1685, his ancestors had chosen the way to the [German Electorate of Brandenburg](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FMargraviate_of_Brandenburg&t=OTY4NWY0NWFjMTgwZmMyZGJjMGQ4MDRjMmM5ZDExODRkZTVlOTFjYSxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1), where the [Great Elector](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FFrederick_William%2C_Elector_of_Brandenburg&t=OTU1YzA2NTgxMzYzMDRiODNiOTA0YjE4N2NkMmU1MDFiOTY4NGQ2ZixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1) from the [House of Hohenzollern](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FHouse_of_Hohenzollern&t=ZWE3NWE0ZWIxMzE4ZWViNGI5OWFhZjQ4ODhiMmViYmMwOWVlMmZkNCxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1), Friedrich Wilhelm of Brandenburg, granted them and 50.000 other religious refugees a new homeland, protection, and special privileges through the [Edict of Potsdam](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FEdict_of_Potsdam&t=NTc4MmJiNTFlNzAwNTVlZmVhYjA5OWI0MTNlMjRmYjUwMDEyM2VmMCxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1). It was the Brandenburg envoy in Paris, [Ezechiel Spanheim](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FEzekiel%2C_Freiherr_von_Spanheim&t=ZjI5MjA1ZGZkNTYzZmY0MjZlZjAwNmMyZjNhMGVmZDM2NWFhMTBiYSxzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1), who had helped the Beauchamp family, like many other immigrants, to leave France. 

Frank Randall was less interested in the beliefs of the Beauchamp family. What fascinated him was the development they had undergone after fleeing and settling in Berlin-Brandenburg. Huguenot families, who were among the most productive social classes of the French society, had helped the economy and agriculture of their new homelands to achieve special growth through their education and diligence. They revived the cultural and intellectual life, developed textile and silk manufactories (silkworm breeding), introduced tobacco cultivation in Germany and were active in jewelry production and trade. To the present day, their descendants have held outstanding positions in politics, the military, and science. These included the de Maizière family, who, with Lothar de Maizière, provided the last Prime Minister of the German Democratic Republic, who, with Karl Ernst Ulrich de Maizière provided a General of the Bundeswehr, the Army of the Federal Republic and who, with Karl Ernst Thomas de Maizière provided a long-standing Defence and Interior Minister of the reunited Germany. This also included the well-known Gontard family, whose branches in Frankfurt am Main and Berlin provided numerous architects, bankers, and military personnel. These included the Erman family, who immigrated later but provided their new fatherland with numerous scholars, among them lawyers, physicists, and historians. All these people had shaped the country of their refuge more than the citizens, in general, were aware. 

Lambert Beauchamp’s family was one of those who had made a career in science. Although they had neither the economic nor the political influence of “the great names” of the Huguenot community, the Beauchamps owned a certain wealth and were highly respected. 

It was this family history that fascinated Frank Randall. It was a model for what he was trying to establish with his own family. He wanted to leave a name. He wanted to connect the foundation of his own ‘house’ with his person. And so the common historical interests that linked him to Lambert Beauchamp had developed into a friendship that led Frank Randall again and again to Museum Island and the old man’s office full of books.

It was there, where he first met Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp, Lambert Beauchamp’s niece, in August 2016. The woman, who was ten years younger, made a positive impression on the English diplomat. Deep inside he had to admit that she didn’t match his usual ‘looting scheme’ (as the Germans called it), but she wasn’t unattractive and above all, she was educated. However, her ancestry was decisive for him to consider a relationship with Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp. Marrying a woman from such a distinguished family would not only benefit his diplomatic and scientific career. It would also give a certain glamour to his own family, which he planned to found. In addition, the difference in age would give him the opportunity to shape the young woman according to his ideas. All in all, Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp was the best choice on the marriage market that opened up to the English military attaché in Berlin. And so Dr. Frank Randall began to court her. At the beginning of 2017, Claire stayed in his official apartment overnight for the first time and just under a year later they got engaged.


	2. The Great Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After chapter 1 focused on Frank Randall, we now turn to the person of Claire Beauchamp.

“Liebe” by [Takmeomeo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fh%25C3%25A4nde-liebe-paar-zusammen-finger-437968%2F&t=NWY4YjBkYzJmM2ZkN2Q0N2QzNTA5MzkyOWRjMGEyMjJlN2ZmYjhmMixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

[Dr. med.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FAcademic_ranks_in_Germany&t=YWFlNzFhZDIxYTgxYWNiYjMxYmJlODZmOWFlMzQwZmZiMjVmOGU3NCxad3BTa3JUbw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187288412840%2Fbeing-yours-2-the-great-secret&m=1)_ Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp_, born on October 20th, 1990 in Berlin, never understood how one could deal so intensively with war and its brutal effects as Frank Randall did. The whole direction of her life was in complete contrast to what her fiancé was doing. And also otherwise there were numerous differences between them.

Claire was only five years old when her parents died in a car accident in the wake of a severe storm on the federal highway 24, which connects Berlin with Hamburg. Uncle Lamb, as she affectionately called him, was the last relative she had. For this reason, the state authorities had placed her in the care of her uncle and transferred custody to him. At first glance, it seemed that it would not be easy for a young girl to grow up with a single older man. But Claire had enjoyed her youth to the full. Lambert Beauchamp took big steps towards retirement, but in his heart, he had always stayed young. The sincere love for his niece had done the rest so that he had always paid attention to promote and support her appropriately to her age. 

At the age of 18, Claire had passed her [Abitur](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abitur) with very good marks and afterward she had started to study medicine at the Humboldt University. Immediately after her studies, she wrote her doctoral thesis, which she passed with [summa cum laude](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doctorate).  
  


“Dorothea Christine Erxleben * Portrait on a '60-Pfenning' stamp of the  
German Federal Ministry of Postal Affairs, 1987”  
  


Besides the constant, loving encouragement by her uncle, it was the example of [Dorothea Christiane Erxleben (1715 - 1762)](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FDorothea_Erxleben&t=MTAxNGMzOThlNTNiOWI1Mzk0ZmI2YjEyNjJiZmExY2Y0M2M0YmVmYyxad3BTa3JUbw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187288412840%2Fbeing-yours-2-the-great-secret&m=1) that motivated Claire immensely. The portrait of the first female German doctor and pioneer of women’s studies, who in 1987 had been honored by the German Federal Ministry of Postal Affairs with a stamp in the series “Women of German History”, had a firm place on her desk.

The employment and further education at the [Charité](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FCharit%25C3%25A9&t=N2UyMjM1M2U0N2Y4NjQyNWVjODBkYjVhN2ZiMjRiZTIxNzZhZTA2Nyxad3BTa3JUbw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187288412840%2Fbeing-yours-2-the-great-secret&m=1), Berlin’s oldest and most respected hospital, that followed her studies, seemed to her only as the next logical step. She loved her work. She felt privileged to be able to work in this historic environment, which had been the workplace of so many important scientists and in which so many sensational discoveries were made. She wished that in the future, too, outstanding work would be done in this place for the good of the people. And perhaps she could make a decisive contribution?  
  


The Charité -Campus Virchow Klinikum (CVK), German Heart Center Berlin  
(Deutsches Herzzentrum Berlin) *  
Picture: A. Savin via [Wikimedia Commons](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fcommons.wikimedia.org%2Fwiki%2FFile%3ABerlin-Wedding_Virchow-Klinikum_06_Herzzentrum.jpg&t=NmYyMmJhOTcwM2VjZDlkNmY0NzU5ZDc0NWNjOGIwZGViMzhlZDJjYixad3BTa3JUbw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187288412840%2Fbeing-yours-2-the-great-secret&m=1)

  
But the dreams of the young doctor were to come to an abrupt end, as the early morning mist when confronted with the first rays of sunlight.

In August 2016, Claire met Dr. Frank Randall during an accidental visit to her uncle’s office. The smart, educated Englishman, who spoke perfect German and French in addition to his mother tongue, had impressed her very much. Although she had fallen in love several times towards the end of her school days and also during her studies, all the feelings had never turned into anything. At some point, the boys in question had always proved to be too immature. Frank Randall, on the other hand, was not only a respected diplomat and scientist, but he also had the intellectual level Claire had longed for in a future partner. It flattered her that such a man began to court her. When they started a relationship in 2017 and got engaged in 2018, the last puzzles of their lives seemed to fit together. They would marry, have children, she would continue her medical work on a part-time basis. Frank would support her. Everything seemed perfect. 

But at the beginning of 2019, the perfect picture got its first cracks. A medical test revealed that Frank Randall was unable to procreate. Claire, always anxious to make the best of a situation, brought up adoption or sperm donation as another way to become parents. Frank’s reaction to these suggestions seemed incomprehensible to her. She could understand his sadness and disappointment at not being able to become a father. But the aggressive tendencies, which he revealed more and more since they came to know the news in question, scared her. Once, when they had talked again about the other possibilities of having a child, the discussion had degenerated into a terrible argument and Frank had become violent. He almost slapped her in the face. At the last moment, he pulled himself together. However, the bruises left by his hands on her wrists were still visible weeks later. Nevertheless, Claire had held on to her relationship with Frank and hoped that everything would turn out for the better.  
  
Again and again, she had hoped. Until that November 15, 2020. Until that day when all her hopes came to an abrupt end.

“Restaurant” by [StefanoPenna](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Frestaurant-abend-abendessen-2816367%2F&t=NTllNTUwMjIwOWM4YmQ2YWY4ZmExZGI5ZGI0MjNlNzc5MzAyNGJmZCxad3BTa3JUbw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187288412840%2Fbeing-yours-2-the-great-secret&m=1)

Claire was looking forward to this evening. Frank had invited her to the cinema and afterward they wanted to have dinner at a special place. She hoped they could talk about having children - again. And maybe this was the evening she longed for. Maybe this was the evening Frank finally proposed to her.

She stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom and checked her make-up one last time when she heard Frank’s smartphone play the tune of “God Save the Queen” and he accepted the incoming call. Soon after, he appeared in the bathroom and told her that - unfortunately - he had to cancel their evening together. He said he had to go to the embassy again because of an urgent matter. Probably, he added, he would not be able to return until the next day.  
Claire felt paralyzed and before she could react with more than a few harsh words, Frank had taken his jacket and keys and left. That she would never see him again, Claire couldn’t know at that moment. Frustrated, she took off the wonderful new black dress she had bought for the occasion alone. Without further ado, she threw it over the edge of the bathtub. Then she kicked the high heels off her feet and ran into the living room. There she poured herself a big whiskey which she emptied in one go. She poured the glass again and then slowly went into the bedroom. There she put on a pair of pajamas, emptied the glass again and cried herself to sleep.

Around three o'clock in the night, she was ruffled by the incessant ringing of both phones and the front doorbell. She reached for her smartphone and went to the front door. Could it be that Frank had come home after all and had misplaced his key somewhere? But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Frank, it was her uncle Lambert standing in front of her. His look was strangely serious and before Claire could ask a question, he had already taken her in his arms, closed the front door with a kick of his right foot and lovingly but firmly led her into the living room, where he placed her on one of the sofas. At that moment she heard the voice of her colleague Dr. Johannes Frings on her phone for the first time. The surgeon told her that Frank had had a car accident and that he had called her uncle. Lambert Beauchamp took the phone out of her hand, spoke a few words with Frings and then hung up. Then he sat down with Claire. Like through a fog, she heard her uncle’s voice. Frank had had a car accident. He had been admitted to the Charité with serious injuries, where the doctors, who knew that Frank was her fiancé, fought for his life with all the means at their disposal. But in the end, all efforts were in vain and the fight was lost. Dr. Frank Wolverton Randall died on November 15, 2020, 2:17 am Berlin time.

“Berlin bei Nacht im Winter” by [SebastianZiegler](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fusers%2Fsebastianziegler-3468166%2F&t=MGRlZDAzNDkzODZmNTExYzk3MzM3MGY2MzkzY2YxYTkzNTdiZDAwNyxad3BTa3JUbw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187288412840%2Fbeing-yours-2-the-great-secret&m=1)

  
Of everything that happened then, Claire had only a vague memory. Thanks to Lambert Beauchamp, she had almost nothing to worry about. In consultation with the embassy and Frank’s cousin Alex, he organized the funeral service and the funeral. As Frank’s direct heir, everything he owned was shipped or handed over to Alex. Claire only kept a box of memorabilia from their time together. And a grave. 

Alex hadn’t cared where Frank was buried and so he had agreed that Frank’s final resting place would be in Berlin. Lambert Beauchamp had also negotiated this with him. He wanted Claire to have a place to mourn because he knew how important that would be. But Claire had never visited the cemetery again after the funeral.

  
  


”Begräbnis” by [PrebenGammelmark](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fbeerdigung-blumen-bestattung-1860298%2F&t=ZmM2MmUwZGM1NGEzMDUxODY1NGRjYjRhNGI5ODI3NDc2MGNkYWZiMyxad3BTa3JUbw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187288412840%2Fbeing-yours-2-the-great-secret&m=1)  
  
  
  
The funeral. That too had walked past Claire like something that had nothing to do with her. Neither could she remember the songs that were sung nor the words the reverend had spoken. Only one thing she could remember _very well_. When the deputy ambassador wanted to condole her, she refused him her hand. Instead of changing words of consolation, she hissed at him reproachfully:

"If you had not called him that evening and ordered him to the embassy, my fiancé would still be alive.”

The diplomat, dressed all in black, replied in amazement:

"But Dr. Beauchamp, nobody called your fiancé from the embassy that evening. We checked. There were no urgent matters that would have made the appearance of Dr. Randall necessary.“

Claire hadn’t believed him. Why should Frank have lied to her? She had meticulously tried to get to Frank’s smartphone to verify the call from the embassy. But wherever she inquired, Frank’s smartphone was lost. The police told her that it had probably been lost during the transport of the wrecked car. And since Frank’s smartphone was a service phone of the embassy, she was also unable to access the connection data from the provider.

Why Frank left the house that evening and where he had gone, that was to remain his secret. One big secret.

* * *

**_Thank you for reading. Read next Monday evening at 10:00 pm (Berlin time) Chapter 3: “Monday morning”_ **


	3. Monday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting to know Frank Randall in Chapter 1 and Claire Beauchamp in Chapter 2, we now meet Jamie Fraser in Chapter 3. With all main characters gathered together, in chapter 4 (next Monday, 10 pm Berlin time) the story will "pick up speed".

“Liebe” by [Takmeomeo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fh%25C3%25A4nde-liebe-paar-zusammen-finger-437968%2F&t=NWY4YjBkYzJmM2ZkN2Q0N2QzNTA5MzkyOWRjMGEyMjJlN2ZmYjhmMixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

Jamie sat at the kitchen table of his apartment and stared at the Sunday edition of “Berliner Beobachter”. He shook his head. How could one print such nonsense in a serious newspaper? **  
**

"Love lasts so short and forgetting so long"

was printed there under the heading “The Poem of the Day”. While Jamie was still thinking about who was responsible for the print of these - in his opinion - brainless lines, his girlfriend Fiona whirled through the kitchen and packed her things for the day in her office. 

"The rent for my apartment isn’t really worth it anymore,“ Fiona said to herself while she put the steel "coffee-to-go” cup on the table.

"Why?“ Jamie asked, without looking up from the newspaper, "Do you want to use your apartment more again?

"No,” Fiona replied, “I didn’t mean _that_.”

"But my apartment is much too small for the two of us,“ Jamie threw in.

"Well, we’ll have to find an apartment that’s big enough for both of us. I recently saw a very nice apartment near Friedrichsplatz. There’s even a daycare center that’s just a few minutes’ walk away." 

"Why _daycare_? Are you _pregnant_?”

“Kindergarten” by [Westfale](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fkinder-kind-r%25C3%25BCcken-aufzeigen-1547261%2F&t=MWVjZTM2YzlhZjk2MDVmMzA4NDEyZGM0YWIwYTUwMTA2MjlhZTI0MCxKekpCT24wRw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187448802095%2Fbeing-yours-3-monday-morning&m=1)

Jamie looked up from the newspaper with a red head and wide-open eyes.

"_No_, of course, I’m _not_ pregnant,“ Fiona replied, stressing every word as if she had to explain a highly complicated mathematical task to a primary school pupil. Then she added:

"You don’t just get pregnant _by accident_!”

"Huh!“

Jamie gave a loud sigh of relief.

"Well, that was a too relieved noise.”

Fiona took a plastic box out of the fridge and put it in her backpack. She looked up and looked at him:

"Maybe in two, two and a half years. But I can show you a detailed calculation for that later tonight.“

Jamie, for whom this discussion had long gone far too far, threw in:

"Listen here: The poem of the day!”

"Great, instead of talking about our future I now get the poem of the day,“ said Fiona and twisted her eyes.

"I don’t love her or do I still love her? Love lasts so short and forgetting so long”. 

"Do you want to tell _me something_?“ asked Fiona and her tone had a certain sharpness.

"Huh? 

Jamie looked at her in amazement.

"Love lasts so short. I thought our love was planned for the longer term.

"Yes, it is all …" 

Jamie took a deep breath once.

"It’s all good.”

“Akten” by [UliSchu](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Forganisation-register-ordner-akten-1205171%2F&t=MTQ2ODMyZjJkNTRkYjMzNWE0MWUwZjNlZmY1MGM4ZjY4YmQ2M2VlNyxKekpCT24wRw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187448802095%2Fbeing-yours-3-monday-morning&m=1)

Fiona packed some files into her backpack.

"Come on, who wants to read poems in a daily newspaper. If I want to read poems, I’ll buy a book of poems!“

Jamie shook his head.

"Well, it’s a good thing you only write about sports,” Fiona replied.

In response, Jamie threw the tennis ball, which he had kneaded in his hand since the end of breakfast, in her direction. He missed her but met his smartphone on a small chest of drawers. The device fell down rattling and broke.

"F…!“ was all Jamie could say.

Fiona bent down and picked up the parts of the - former - smartphone went to the kitchen table and laid them down in front of Jamie.

"Oh, this time it lasted almost two months,” she said smilingly and with an ironic undertone. Then she kissed Jamie on the cheek.

"By the way,’ she said, ‘it’s already five to …’.

Jamie looked at her frustrated.

"So what?

But then it dawned on him, today was the day of the editorial conference!

"F…!“

“Smartphone” by [Skitterphoto](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fgebrochen-telefon-smartphone-3653897%2F&t=ZDQzZmFiMzRmZTFjZGJiODA3ZTBhMzU3YzE4ZmEwODljY2FiYTg2MCxKekpCT24wRw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187448802095%2Fbeing-yours-3-monday-morning&m=1)

**_James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser,_** born on May 1, 1993, in Berlin and called "Jamie” by his friends, had been writing for five years as a journalist for the sports section of the “Berliner Beobachters”. When he applied there, the editor-in-chief had looked at him frowning and declared that he needed an experienced man for this job. But experience in sports was exactly what Jamie could score with and finally, he convinced the people in charge of the newspaper with his extensive knowledge and his linguistic talent. The five years he had worked there had been the best of his life, at least professionally. How long he was with Fiona now, however, he could not remember so well. They were simply together and … it was ok.

When Jamie arrived at the editorial office of the “Berliner Beobachter” one hour after his cell phone had died a (very!) premature death, Charlotta and Jason were standing in the hallway staring at him.

"_Where_ have _you_ been?“ asked Charlotta with her squeaky, loud voice.

”_Yeah_, _where_ have _you_ been, _Jamie_?“ Jason imitated her.

"We’ve been waiting for you all the time,” Charlotta reproached him. Then she informed him:

"Setzmann wants to see you! Immediately! And he’s angry!“

A few minutes later Jamie sat in the editor’s office and couldn’t believe his ears.

”_What_ do you want me to do? Portraying _a crooner_? Is _that_ the punishment now?“

"What do you have against love?” asked Setzmann with a grin and continued: “The magazine of the North German Gazette recently said: 'Henriette Boot reminds us of love’!

"What does this _Schunkelmusic_ have to do with love? It’s all artificial! I’m a journalist!” Jamie said annoyed.

"Exactly! You want to reach your readers after all! People want to be _touched_,“ Setzmann tried to lure him. 

"I thought, people, want to be _informed_,” Jamie threw in.

Then he reached for the Sunday edition of the Berliner Beobachter, which was directly in front of Setzmann, and held the page with “The Poem of the Day” in front of the editor’s face.

"Then better something like this: 'Love lasts so short and forgetting so long’. That at least has still a little standart!”

Setzmann tried another bait:

"Look, Jamie, for weeks you’ve been telling me that you want to write a portrait of Jürgen Klopp.“

Yes, that’s exactly what Jamie wanted. Since Klopp brought the Liverpool FC team to the top of the Premier League and then continued to coach them in an incredible series of victories, the former coach of FSV Mainz 05 had been a sought-after interviewee.  


“Fußball” by [Pexels](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fpublikum-trib%25C3%25BCne-menge-spiel-1866738%2F&t=MjIwZTM1MDY5MTljN2NiMmFkNzI3MjhmMmRmYTZlMGY5NDE2NGUzYSxKekpCT24wRw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187448802095%2Fbeing-yours-3-monday-morning&m=1)

"You know, Fraser,” Setzmann ripped Jamie from his thoughts, “if you want to write a portrait, you have to 'get to the person’. It’s all about emotions and it’s not enough just to know statistics and data from the CV of a well-known personality! You’re a good journalist and an expert on football, but I don’t know if you’re ready for a Klopp portrait. No, we need more! Watch out, if you crack Henriette Boot, and nobody has cracked her before, then you may write the Klopp portrait.”

"Ok, I’ll do that. With heartache, cracking the crooner and all that nonsense, but then I want the Klopp portrait!"

Setzmann smiled.

"It’s a deal!"

* * *

** _Thank you very much for your interest. Read next Monday, 10 pm Berlin time: "To new shores (1)"._ **


	4. To new beginnings (1): A Caterpillar called Cate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire comes back to Berlin and the stage is set to "get in contact" with Jamie ...

“Liebe” by [Takmeomeo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fh%25C3%25A4nde-liebe-paar-zusammen-finger-437968%2F&t=NWY4YjBkYzJmM2ZkN2Q0N2QzNTA5MzkyOWRjMGEyMjJlN2ZmYjhmMixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

Nothing was the same after Frank died. It was impossible for Claire to continue her work at the surgical department of the Charité. It was the place where Frank had died. She was undecided about what to do now. Then Gudrun Spitzer, a Berlin-based publisher, contacted her and invited Claire to her office for a conversation.

“Raupe” by [PixEasy](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fillustrations%2Fraupe-l%25C3%25A4cheln-wurm-papillon-1732290%2F&t=NzY1NmI3MjQ1Nzk2NTg2ZmQxZGI5ZGI2MzdmNzgzMmM1YTY5M2Q3Myx4anpUOUxOYg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187606031460%2Fbeing-yours-4-to-new-beginnings-1-a&m=1)

  
Several years before Claire had started working at the Charité, she had discovered her talent for painting and that it was easy for her to invent small but profound stories for children about the characters she designed. Even before she began her studies, she had joined a group of medical students who visited children diagnosed with cancer in Berlin hospitals. Together with the other students, she tried to encourage those children with small plays and stories. During one of these performances, Gudrun Spitzer had met Claire, when she visited her sick niece Naila. The publisher was enthusiastic about Claire’s pictures and stories from the very first moment. She was especially taken with the little book “A Caterpillar called Cate”. And she convinced Claire to publish her drawings and stories. Claire had agreed. From then on she created a new volume every year and in the circles of young parents "Cate, the Caterpillar” and every following volume had become a hit. 

Gudrun Spitzer was a woman who surprisingly had her ears everywhere, but above all at the heart of the city of Berlin and at the pulse of time. She never told how she had heard about Frank’s death and Claire’s situation. But she invited Claire, expressed her condolences to her in the honest way that distinguished the publisher, and then made a suggestion to the young woman. She would pay her an advance and Claire would take a trip with the money and relax. And of course, when Claire was ready, she would create a new volume of “A Caterpillar called Cate”. Claire had agreed. Just a week after meeting Gudrun Spitzer, she had set off on a long journey through the great cultural sites of Europe. And Uncle Lamb had visited her whenever possible.  
Together they had strolled through Paris, visited Prague and the city’s famous Castle, eaten [Mozartkugeln](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FMozartkugel&t=NWM3MGQ5NmQzZTU2NWQ3MmNmYWVmZGQ4MmZjZTZjZmM0Yzk1Mjg2ZSx4anpUOUxOYg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187606031460%2Fbeing-yours-4-to-new-beginnings-1-a&m=1) in Salzburg and sipped [Melange](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FWiener_Melange&t=ZTgzMTFlNzg5YjM0ZGJkZjQyYjBlZDE3ODdlNmRjMmExZWI4MjQxZCx4anpUOUxOYg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187606031460%2Fbeing-yours-4-to-new-beginnings-1-a&m=1) from oversized white-and-gold porcelain cups in Vienna. They had visited [Monaco](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FMonaco&t=YWE0M2JiYjFkNTU1NzcwM2Y0ZTI3MmRjZjY3N2M5YWY5ZjVkZWRhYSx4anpUOUxOYg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187606031460%2Fbeing-yours-4-to-new-beginnings-1-a&m=1), sailed to Sicily and had enjoyed the view of Mount [Etna](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FMount_Etna&t=ZmQzOGJlZmU2OTdiNmQxNTVhNGQ5OTcyNjhiZDM1ZmRiNmY4MmE1ZSx4anpUOUxOYg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187606031460%2Fbeing-yours-4-to-new-beginnings-1-a&m=1) from [Taormina](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FTaormina&t=MTZhMTQ3MjAxYTdhMGE3ZTVlN2Y0NzZmZDM5YzRmYjEwYTgxOWQwZix4anpUOUxOYg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187606031460%2Fbeing-yours-4-to-new-beginnings-1-a&m=1)’s wonderful roman theater before climbing the volcano. They had visited the catacombs in Rome, admired the cathedral in Milan and, after a detour to Tuscany, had also come to Turin, where they visited the [Mole Antonelliana](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FMole_Antonelliana&t=NzUyNTNjZTY5YjJmYzJiMzFlNzc0OTQxZmI2Y2Y4NDZlMzJjM2U4OCx4anpUOUxOYg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187606031460%2Fbeing-yours-4-to-new-beginnings-1-a&m=1). Since Claire had seen the building on an [Italian 2-cent coin](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fde.wikipedia.org%2Fw%2Findex.php%3Ftitle%3DDatei%3A2_cent_coin_It_serie_1.png%26filetimestamp%3D20110526155618%26&t=ZDA0ZmFlNmExZGM4ZTIwNjU2NzQ3YjJhMDkxZTZhYzBkNGI3YzFhYyx4anpUOUxOYg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187606031460%2Fbeing-yours-4-to-new-beginnings-1-a&m=1), she wished to visit it one day. Italy was a wonderful country.  


“Taormina/Sizilien, Römisches Theater” by [Grey48](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fitalien-landschaft-sizilien-3116211%2F&t=NWY1OGM0OTFjZDMwNWI0Zjg4ZWJiZTg3ZDhjNGUyOTA0OGQ0MWQzZCx4anpUOUxOYg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187606031460%2Fbeing-yours-4-to-new-beginnings-1-a&m=1)  


  
But then Claire fell in love. Really in love. Not with a man. (She wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready for that again!) She had fallen in love with a city. [Venice](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FVenice&t=MjhmZjY3NzlmZjFlYTA0MzI5MTEwOGE1MjA3ZDNmZTkyNDJlNzc0OCx4anpUOUxOYg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187606031460%2Fbeing-yours-4-to-new-beginnings-1-a&m=1) had taken her heart by storm. Even the annual [Acqua Alta](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FAcqua_alta&t=ZTQ3MjUwNjA1MjFjMjM2YzA1NjUwYTJlYzM0ODQ1ODI0MjMzMjgxYSx4anpUOUxOYg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187606031460%2Fbeing-yours-4-to-new-beginnings-1-a&m=1) could not drown Claire’s love for this city. She had the feeling of slowly, very slowly finding her way back to life in this place and even began to learn Italian on her own.   
And then came the call. It was on a Sunday evening, the sun was slowly sinking into the sea behind the lagoon. Uncle Lamb was on the other side of the line and after a few words about how he was and how she was, he informed Claire that Gudrun Spitzer’s small publishing house was on the verge of bankruptcy. The publisher urged Claire to finally produce a new volume with the beloved caterpillar. Otherwise … she would have to demand her advance back. Claire hadn’t been idle for the past two years, but she had never managed to create a funny “A Caterpillar called Cate” volume. The little caterpillar her current stories told of was a lonely and sad caterpillar that slowly dragged itself through its existence. Claire's “Cate” obviously suffered from caterpillar burn-out.  
She sighed and looked out at the sea. Claire still had some financial reserves, but could not liquidate them at this time. Uncle Lamb would surely have helped her out, but on the one hand, she wanted to stay independent and on the other hand … she couldn’t escape reality forever. And the reality was, that the man she had loved (and still loved) was dead. So that evening she decided to return to Berlin. She got her smartphone and dialed the number of her best friend Katharina, called Katja.  
  


  


“Markusplatz / Venedig bei Hochwasser (Aqua Alta)” by JøMa [Public domain]  
[via Wikimedia Commons](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fupload.wikimedia.org%2Fwikipedia%2Fcommons%2F7%2F74%2FAcqua_alta_a_Venezia_nel_settembre_2009.jpg&t=YzlkODEwYTFjMTg0NTZmNWVkMWM0MTA5MjZjYzAwNTEzZWQ4ZjlhMCx4anpUOUxOYg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187606031460%2Fbeing-yours-4-to-new-beginnings-1-a&m=1)

A week and a day later, Claire parked her car in the courtyard of the apartment building where Katja, a computer scientist and games programmer with a very good income, owned a flat. Claire had leased out her own apartment after Frank’s death. The contract was still running, so she couldn’t go back. Uncle Lamb had offered to put her up with him, but Claire wanted an environment that reminded her of Frank as little as possible. She had explained her situation to Katja, who was happy to see her friend again and said that it was ‘absolutely no problem’ to give Claire the guest room. Katja was 'most of the time with her boyfriend Bernd anyway’. So Claire had packed her things in Venice and had flown back to Berlin. There she had stayed one night in a hotel and the next day she rented a small van. Claire had taken it to ‘The Storage Box’, where she had stored all her things two years earlier. When everything but the furniture was loaded, she dialed Katja’s number and announced her arrival.**  
**   
Less than an hour later Claire drove into the parking lot and was greeted enthusiastically by Katja, who had already been waiting for her. The women immediately started unloading the van, as Claire had to return it that same evening. After three hours, with a little coffee break in between, the car was almost empty.

"How many boxes left?“ Katja asked when she met Claire at one of her walks to the van. 

"There is only one box left in the car. Then we’re done with that,” she replied.

When Katja came to the car and looked inside, she saw it: The box. It was the last box and on the tape with which it was closed, it "Frank" was written all over.**  
**

"Claire, tell me, the Frank box is just like I packed it. Haven’t you opened it yet?“

"No, I just haven’t …” the girlfriend called back.

Katja shook her head and twisted her eyes.

"Oh Mann, Claire!”

"Oh, I thought I’d do that when I have time,’ Claire shouted annoyed in the direction of her friend.

"Yes, sure,’ Katja mumbled and shook her head. Then she grabbed the box, pulled it from the van’s loading area and carried it into the apartment. 

Two hours later, Katja and Claire were finally sitting on the sofa in Katja’s kitchen, drinking coffee. While Claire had returned the van to the car rental, Katja had stowed the boxes, prepared the guest room for Claire and made her bed.

"I’m hungry,“ Katja suddenly said.

"I still have some cake,” Claire replied.

"No, no cake! I need something decent now. How about Currywurst in  
the 'Golden Hen’?“

”_In the 'Golden Hen’?_ Nah, I can’t go there yet! I was there often with …“

"Frank. I know. But if you want to avoid Frank in this city, you’ve lost. You were with Frank here in so many places. Let’s go! We’re going to the Golden Hen now. It’s like vaccinating. You have to learn …”

"Okay, okay. You’re right,“ Claire grumpily admitted. Then she got up to put on her jacket.

The 'Golden Hen’ was a very cozy pub that also offered small dishes, mainly Currywurst. Since they studied at the University, it was Claire’s and Katja’s favorite pub and after Claire had met Frank, she had dragged him there several times. Frank could never warm-up for the Currywurst, but he never let go of good German beer.  


“Currywurst” by [planet_fox](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fcurrywurst-curry-ketschup-w%25C3%25BCrstchen-4108522%2F&t=M2UxODM2M2E4OTM3NzEzMmU3YmJlZjU4MzNhNmYyNGQyNjJmNzhlYix4anpUOUxOYg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187606031460%2Fbeing-yours-4-to-new-beginnings-1-a&m=1)  


**  
** When Claire and Katja had finished their first Currywurst after almost two and a half years, Kalle, the pub owner, came to their table.**  
**

"Girls, how are you?”

Claire slightly twisted her eyes. Katja tried to save the situation.

"And how are _you_, Kalle?“

Kalle sat down next to Claire on the bench.

"You mean because of _my Marie_?”

Katja nodded.

"You need a while.“

"I don’t know if my ‘while’ is up yet,” Claire said.

"Well,“ Kalle said, "as long as I talk to her, she’s not dead to me. Or, yes, she’s dead, but that doesn’t stop me from living as if she were there.”

All three remained silent for a moment. Then Kalle turned to Claire again:

"The ice is getting thicker and thicker and at some point, it will hold you.”

"Maybe you should do that too,“ Katja said, "I mean, bringing Frank back into your life and talk to him.”

Claire laughed ironically.

"Yes _exactly_,“ she said in Katja’s direction, "and then I need 20 cats.”

Katja, who was tired of having fruitless discussions with Claire, pushed the used plates aside and said:

"Come on, let’s unpack your boxes!“  


* * *

** _Thank you so much for your interest. Read next Monday, 10 pm Berlin time: "To new shores (2)”. _ **


	5. To new beginnings (2): The Frank-Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Katja open the Frank Box. What Claire finds in it triggers unexpected developments.

Liebe” by [Takmeomeo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fh%25C3%25A4nde-liebe-paar-zusammen-finger-437968%2F&t=NWY4YjBkYzJmM2ZkN2Q0N2QzNTA5MzkyOWRjMGEyMjJlN2ZmYjhmMixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

When Jamie returned to the office a few minutes after his conversation with Setzmann, Jason grinned at him: **  
**

"Well, do you have to write about the crooner now?“

Jamie only answered with a grim look.

"Leave me alone, you…”

"Well, boys, no fighting here for once,“ Charlotta interfered. In her right hand, she held a small black parcel, which she triumphantly held out to Jamie.

"Here, Jamie, because I’m nice, I got you your new smartphone. But you also have a new number.”

"What? Oh no, not another new number! This is the third new number in the last six months, Charlotta!”

"That’s the way it is, Jamie. If you constantly break your phone, you will get a new number every time. If you learn to be careful with the things in your life, then you can - perhaps! - also, keep your number,“ Charlotta answered grinning and the ironic undertone in her voice could not be overheard.

“Menschen - Teamarbeit” by [StartupStockPhotos](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fstart-start-up-menschen-593341%2F&t=YTkxZjY0MDkxMDc2ZjRkMjI4YTRkNWVmMTkyZGYxZmE4YTdhODg0YSxkOFFNUG9xZw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187761505650%2Fdein-sein-5-zu-neuen-ufern-2&m=1)

As she turned around and walked away, Jason boasted it all over the room:

"Hello folks, everybody, listen up! Jamie has a new number!”

Jamie would have loved to hide in a dark hole in the ground. Wasn’t it punishment enough that he had to write about this crooner?

Once again he turned to Charlotta:

"Man, are you crazy? Now I have to redo all my contacts …“

"Now stop crying, the old number does not work anymore!”  
  
Jamie gave up and wanted to get back to his work when Jason turned to him:

"Say, do you have any interesting information about the keyword ‘home advantage’?“

"In 2013, the first Nigerian football league had almost all home victories.”

"You’re faster than Google, Jamie! You’re ‘The Brain’,“ Jason said admiringly, adding: "it’s a shame that you’ve become _a mädchen_ now and are busy with soul-stuff and heartbreak.”

He grinned impudently.

"One can also write objectively about [‘Schlagermusik’](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FSchlager_music&t=Y2E1NWZlMjY5ZDM4NGRhMDEzMzAwMzVhY2Y3NGFlZGE2ZTI0MjIwYSx0RHRXWnlMWA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187762440695%2Fbeing-yours-5-to-new-beginnings-2-the&m=1),” Jamie replied and tried again to turn to his work. But at that moment Charlotta rolled up to him in her office chair. 

"By the way, you should think about why you wanted to throw a ball at your girlfriend’s head.“

“Tennisball” by [Bessi](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Ftennis-tennisball-drehen-kugel-1381230%2F&t=MzBiZDk2MzkyOWQxZjBjZjAyODM2YjdiZjI0ZmUyOWQ0ZTdhMmI4ZSxkOFFNUG9xZw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187761505650%2Fdein-sein-5-zu-neuen-ufern-2&m=1)

"That was a friendly joke,” Jamie replied and got up. He had absolutely no desire for these conversations anymore and wanted to go to the toilet for a few minutes.

“That was a litter among friends that wasn’t meant seriously!”  
  
"Among _friends_?“ Charlotta asked and now she got up and ran after Jamie. (She wouldn’t let him get away that so easily.)

"There’s an abyss opening up, Fraser!”

"Oh, abyss! You stayed too long on these self-help blogs, Charlotta!“

Jamie accelerated his steps. But Charlotta was determined not to let him get away so easily.”

“Do you take care of her enough?” 

"Of course I care enough for her.“

Charlotta didn’t stop talking, but Jamie didn’t listen at all. He reached the door to the toilets and had disappeared. Charlotta stopped with a red head in front of it.

“Mauer” by [FreeToUseSounds](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fmauer-ziegelstein-beton-zement-3087292%2F&t=NGE5NWM4NmUwMTljNWM0NjJlMmNmM2E2YzEzNWQ3MTIxMDZlZjk0YixkOFFNUG9xZw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187761505650%2Fdein-sein-5-zu-neuen-ufern-2&m=1)

When Jamie returned to his desk, Jason strolled over to him.

"Come on, old boy. Don’t take it so hard. Schlager, heartache, new number. It’s not bad, _it’s just a new enriching phase of your life._" 

He grinned all over his face. 

Jamie twisted his eyes. Then he shut down his computer, grabbed his bag and said:

"You all can … I continue to work at home now. One can’t concentrate here!”

  
At the same time, Katja and Claire sat on the floor of Katja’s guest room (which was now Claire’s room) and started unpacking the “Frank box” together. The first thing Claire grabbed was an old shirt of Frank. She pulled it on herself and smelled it.

"Smells like … box,“ she said and pulled it over her blouse. 

Katja watched her but said nothing. Then Claire reached for the little black box covered in velvet…

"Our engagement ring…”

Katja nodded and knew what was coming. And indeed, Claire re-told (for the umpteenth time) the story of how Frank had found out the measurements of her finger. She put the ring on her finger.

"Fits perfectly,“ Katja admitted. Then she asked:

"Would you like to go … to the cemetery?”

"I’ve never been there before. I have to go there, don’t I?“

Katja nodded in agreement.

"I think I can’t do that until I’m 'normal’ again. And that means ‘never’.”

Claire didn’t want to deepen the painful topic and so she reached for the old smartphone, which was also in the box.

"My old phone. There are certainly still SMS Frank sent me on it.”

Before Katja could reply, Claire began to read and Katja knew that the rest of the evening would pass by that way.

“Hemden” by [Gadini](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fhemden-soziale-hemden-kleidung-591750%2F&t=MjNhODViZjhlZmEzNjQ4ZDViZjFkZGM2YTE5YTE4ODU5MWY3YWE5NixkOFFNUG9xZw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187761505650%2Fdein-sein-5-zu-neuen-ufern-2&m=1)

Jamie had bought some things to eat on the way home. Arriving in his apartment, he had tried to work on his article, but he hadn’t made any progress. German Schlager! To take a passionate interest in it, you had to be 65 years of age - at least. Then, Fiona had come home from work and they had had dinner. When Jamie was still putting the dishes in the dishwasher, Fiona set up the beamer and connected it to her laptop. When Jamie sat down with her, she began a detailed explanation of what the monthly rates for a condo would be and what expenses they would face. She repeatedly referred to the charts on the wall. Jamie watched Fiona and tried to fake interest. But he didn’t really succeed. Fiona looked at him triumphantly:

"You see, it’s worth! We can make it.“

Jamie, who felt himself in a duty to answer something, nodded, then said:

"Yeah, that’s definitely … a … very convincing … chart.”

"Are you listening to me?“ Fiona asked fiercely, “Why do I have to drag you like this in every single time?!”

"Why 'drag’? I’ll join in!” 

"That is also a sign to the world that I am your wife. You don’t have it that way with public declarations of love. Don’t you?”

Fiona packed her documents and the beamer away and Jamie could only look at her in astonishment. He was silent. It was better not to pour more oil into the fire.

Half an hour later they sat together in their bed. Jamie read the biography of Henriette Boot, Fiona went through some calculations on her laptop, which she wanted to present to her boss the next day.

“Küche” by [TA9141985](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fhome-k%25C3%25BCche-modern-luxus-k%25C3%25BCche-1416381%2F&t=MmQ5NGIxYzE2YjY3N2U2NDZkZTVhNzlmMThjNDI2OGYzZTI5MmNmMyxkOFFNUG9xZw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187761505650%2Fdein-sein-5-zu-neuen-ufern-2&m=1)

At the same time, Claire was sitting in Katja’s kitchen. The girlfriend had said goodbye to spend the evening with her new lover. Claire had opened a bottle of red wine and started to drink. Maybe she should try what Katja had advised her to do? She put the glass aside and tried to concentrate. Then she said in a firm voice:

"Frank?“ 

But then she shook herself. No, that wouldn’t help her. That just didn’t work. She sounded like an old granny talking to herself in a tram. She shook her head once more, then she looked at her old smartphone. She grabbed it and texted:

"Hello, Frank. I miss you …”

No, that didn’t work that way either. Suddenly she looked at the Sunday edition of the “Berliner Beobachter” that Katja had left on the table. The section “The Poem of the Day” attracted Claire’s attention. She took the newspaper and read. Yes, that were lines she could identify with. So she wrote:

_**“Love lasts so short and forgetting so long.”**_

She paused for a moment. Then she pressed “send” and - at that moment the lights went out in the apartment.

“Stromausfall” by [gentleflamechen](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fkerzenlicht-timer-stromausfall-3194287%2F&t=ZTlkNzNkMDgyNDVkMzdjZjkzNTIyMzJmM2JhZTg4NmVjZTI0MzA4ZixkOFFNUG9xZw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187761505650%2Fdein-sein-5-zu-neuen-ufern-2&m=1)

Not only in Katja’s apartment did the lights went out but in the whole quarter. Jamie and Fiona were also sitting in the dark. Fiona, who hated any interruption of her work, said slightly annoyed:

"Will you turn the lights back on?“

At that moment a signal came from Jamie’s new phone, informing him of the arrival of a new message.

"I didn’t turn off the light at all,” he said and clicked on the message.

"Neither did I,“ Fiona said, trying to revive the bedside lamp by turning it on and off.

"Haha, very funny!”

"What then?“ Fiona asked frustrated. 

"How? Is this message not from you? I got a text with the poem that I read to you this morning.”

"Certainly spam,“ Fiona said.

"Isn’t that a blatant coincidence?”

"Hmhm, funny,“ Fiona replied. At that moment the light went on again and she immediately turned back to her calculations.

"You don’t have a thing for something like that, do you?”

"For spam?“

Fiona looked at him in astonishment.

Jamie took a deep breath.

"No, for strange coincidences!”

"I’ve got something for life planning, with a job that’s fulfilling, a nice apartment, a family. But apparently, you don’t have much left for that.“

"You can’t just plan everything, that’s stress!”

"You have to plan everything,“ Fiona replied, patting Jamie’s left shoulder a few times and then saying:

"But you’ll learn that.”

Claire sat in Katja’s kitchen and looked around. Then she said

"Hello. Hello?“

And right at that moment, the lights went on again. She decided to go to sleep. For today she had had enough of this experiment

* * *

_ **Thank you so much for your interest. Read next Monday, 10 pm Berlin time: “Connection established” (1) ** _


	6. Connection established (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie sees Claire for the first time.

“Liebe” by [Takmeomeo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fh%25C3%25A4nde-liebe-paar-zusammen-finger-437968%2F&t=NWY4YjBkYzJmM2ZkN2Q0N2QzNTA5MzkyOWRjMGEyMjJlN2ZmYjhmMixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

The next morning, Katja and Claire went jogging. At least that’s what they had in mind. In the end, they just walked along the Spree side by side. Claire had told Katja about her nightly text message to Frank and that the light had suddenly gone off. Should she see a sign in _that?_ Katja’s answer was an unequivocal “No!”. And there was a very simple, logical reason for that: She had found herself in an elevator at the time of the blackout and Frank knew of her fear of getting stuck in an elevator. He would never interrupt the power while she was standing in an elevator. (If there was anything Frank could do, a thing she completely doubted. But of course, she didn’t tell Claire about that.)**  
**

While the two young women were still discussing their hypotheses about the background to the evening power outage, they came ever closer to the former factory building, which now housed a number of start-ups and where Gudrun Spitzer’s publishing house was located too.

"Keep your fingers crossed for me,“ Claire asked, "if I don’t get an extension, then I’ll have to go to Darmstadt to lecture at the university of applied science.”

  
  
“Darmstadt - Main Station” by [lapping](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fdarmstadt-hauptbahnhof-hessen-2317002%2F&t=MzBhNTY0Y2M5Y2Q2ZGFhMWEwYzE2NGQ4N2IwYzFhM2Q0MmVjOTQ1OSx3MDFEeWhHaA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187906935860%2Fbeing-yours-6-connection-established-1&m=1)  


"[Darmstadt](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FDarmstadt&t=MDJhYmY3NzBmYWU1OGNjNTFjODQzNDJlMTJhZjA3Zjk3NzkyNWY3NSx3MDFEeWhHaA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187906935860%2Fbeing-yours-6-connection-established-1&m=1)! Who calls a city [_Darm_](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FGastrointestinal_tract%23Lower_gastrointestinal_tract&t=NmYwYzZiNjE2MGU3NjIxNTQ0MGNiYzRmZTU2M2VjYTg0OWI5OWNiMSx3MDFEeWhHaA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187906935860%2Fbeing-yours-6-connection-established-1&m=1)stadt?“ Katja pondered.

Ten minutes later Claire sat in Gudrun Spitzer’s office and had to listen to a long speech about how important it was that she finally delivered a new volume of "A Caterpillar, called Cate”. 

In front of Gudrun Spitzer lay a number of almost black and white pictures showing a sad caterpillar. The publisher impatiently tapped on the cover, which bore the title “Caterpillar Cate and the Great Loneliness”. 

"There’s no happy fart coming out of a sad ass! Isn’t that right, Mrs. Beauchamp? Good old Martin Luther already taught us that. And he knew something about it!”

The publisher pulled on her e-cigarette.

"Oh my goodness! Why is there no such thing as an e-cigar! There is only health manure! Why smoke if it’s not dangerous?“

The blonde-haired, well-dressed publisher threw the e-cigarette aside. 

"Mrs. Beauchamp, if I continue to receive such designs from you, I have to start a trauma therapy! We make children’s books here! Does that mean anything to you? Children? Small, dirty, like to laugh?”

"I’m trying to write something funny …“

"Yes! No one is as good at that as you are… No one _was_ as good as you! Mann, Mrs. Beauchamp! You are the only author in my publishing house whom I liked to read myself, but this?! Oh excuse me, one shouldn’t put so much pressure on one’s creative people … but why should all the pressure remain with us?”

Gudrun Spitzer again picked up her e-cigarette.

"Mrs. Beauchamp,” she said and pointed with her finger at an employee who had just walked through the room, “That’s Mrs. Klosterfeld and Mrs. Klosterfeld loses her job if you don’t soon produce a funny caterpillar that doesn’t become anorexic while crawling around and doesn’t contemplate suicide and doesn’t have to face the difficult decision of who of her two best friends she will rescue from the next forest fire! Mrs. Beauchamp! The bank is breathing down my neck! We still have ten days left, otherwise, I have to demand my advance back.”

The publisher sighed clearly audibly.

"Mrs. Beauchamp, why don’t you go out again, be among people,“ she said and suddenly added: _"When was the last time you had sex?”_

  
  
”Berlin - Kreuzberg - Spree” by [beejees](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fberlin-kreuzberg-schlesische-strasse-4085834%2F&t=MjFlODlkYWIwYWMyNTI5NjgyMjc4MjAwNTNjYzcwNWE5ZWMzMWY1Nyx3MDFEeWhHaA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187906935860%2Fbeing-yours-6-connection-established-1&m=1)  


Half an hour later Claire was on her way back. What was she supposed to do now? Since Frank’s sudden death, it’s been so hard for her to deal with funny things. It was as if someone had just turned off the sun at the sky, at her sky. She reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out her old phone. Then she sat down on the wall that separated the way she’d walked on from the river Spree and wrote a new text to Frank.

Jamie sat at his desk in the big and noisy editorial office and tried to work on his article about Henriette Boot when his smartphone reported the arrival of a new text:

_"Don’t let me be dead while I’m still alive.”_

What was that supposed to mean?

But before he could find an answer to that question, Charlotta rolled up to his desk in her office chair.

"Did you read it? The rapper Ronny Fu confessed his love to his girlfriend in an ad in the newspaper!”

"Yeahhhh,“ Jamie replied annoyed without taking his eyes off the display of his smartphone. But Charlotta didn’t stop:

"What were you thinking when you first saw Fiona?” she asked intrusively.

"What do you want from me again?”

"I just … find it …interesting. I am completely different than you and … I would simply like to know, how people like you … are … in love ….“

To be honest, Charlotta wasn’t interested in ‘how people’ like Jamie and Fiona were in love. After talking to Jamie the day before, she had a strong suspicion that ‘the love’ between him and Fiona had 'fallen asleep’ long ago if it was not already in a comatose state. She had an unmistakable instinct for something like this. The expression "litter among _friends_” had made her suspicious. At the same time, she was worried about Jamie, whom she regarded more like a good friend than as a colleague.

Jamie had got up and started to write an answer to the unknown sender of the text message:

"Excuse me, but I think you wanted to reach someone else…“ 

But all of a sudden he had no more wifi at his desk. He stood up and walked through the office. Charlotta ran after him:

"Now don’t be so uptight!”

Jamie sighed.

"Oh, I don’t know, somehow there wasn’t such a real first time. She was just there and when after volleyball somehow nobody else wanted to go along for a drink she came with me and … Why don’t I have wifi here now?”

Jamie asked annoyed and deleted the text he had written.

"Anyway, we went for a drink together and somehow we got along quite well.“

Charlotta, who was still following Jamie, stopped and looked at him with big eyes and shook her head. Jamie disappeared behind the toilet door. Charlotta followed him.  


“Mauer” by [FreeToUseSounds](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fmauer-ziegelstein-beton-zement-3087292%2F&t=NGE5NWM4NmUwMTljNWM0NjJlMmNmM2E2YzEzNWQ3MTIxMDZlZjk0YixkOFFNUG9xZw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187761505650%2Fdein-sein-5-zu-neuen-ufern-2&m=1)

”_WHAT?_ Somehow you got along quite well?“ she asked incredulously.

Jamie disappeared into a toilet cabin.

"Weren’t you in love at all?”

"Yes. Sure. Certainly. With time. This is a men’s room, by the way.“

"Gender segregation in the sanitary area is discrimination, you grandpa! _What do you mean: with time?_”

"How one falls in love … with time!“

"My goodness, Jamie! You sound like those women who have never had an orgasm before and then say 'Yes, but I’ve certainly had an orgasm before. That was a very warm feeling! My goodness, Jamie! You’ve never had a love orgasm!”

Jamie, who came out of the cabin and stepped up to the washstand to wash his hands, said:

"Love orgasm, Charlotta! That’s a stupid word even by your standards!“

"Why? Love orgasm! That’s great! You have never really been in love. So much that you are muddy in your brain!”

At this moment, the excited discussion between Jamie and Charlotta was interrupted by the sound of his smartphone. Jamie took it out of his pocket and clicked on the display.  


“Mobil” by [niekverlaan](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Ftelefon-mobil-anruf-samsung-iphone-586268%2F&t=MmJlMTdhNDJhNWE0OWFlYWFhNTRmOGQyMGMxZDFlMjA4MjhmYWJmMyx3MDFEeWhHaA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187906935860%2Fbeing-yours-6-connection-established-1&m=1)

  
"Something important?” Charlotta asked - not out of curiosity, no, she was _simply interested in many things._

"Say, do you also get _kitsch_ text messages all the time?“ Jamie asked and held the device out to her.

_"Sometimes there’s an abyss under my feet and I forgot how to jump over it,”_ Charlotta read.

"My goodness, that’s so sad!“ said the secretary.

Jamie took the smartphone out of her hand and walked towards the exit.

"Sorry, I have to go. Because now I’m expected to have fun with Fiona’s friends.”

An hour later Jamie was sitting in Tina and Jost’s living room. Fiona’s friends had invited him and her to an evening of games. They had had dinner and were just about to play a completely childish guessing game. How Jamie hated all this nonsense! Tina was mainly interested in the newest Hollywood stars and their affairs and of course Jost and her new house. Jost, on the other hand, knew nothing else to talk about but his success as the financial manager of a hedge fund and his new 80,000 Euro SUV. Fiona didn’t seem to mind at all, she was enthusiastic about the game and asked purposefully which person she was. Suddenly Jamie’s smartphone reported the arrival of a new message:

_“Always be yourself. Unless you are Batman. Then ALWAYS be Batman.”_

Jamie had to smile. Fiona looked at him questioningly.

"Nothing important,“ he lied and plugged the phone back in.

The others kept playing. Jamie looked out the window. 

_"Always be yourself. Unless you are Batman. Then ALWAYS be Batman.”_

He wasn’t Batman, but was he himself? Jamie looked at the others and then again out the window. He doubted it. No, somehow everything felt so wrong. His whole life felt wrong. He was not himself. He only did what others demanded or expected of him. At some point, the unfortunate evening was over. When they were back in his apartment, he and Fiona hardly spoke a word. They went to bed and extinguished the light. But Jamie couldn’t sleep. Who was that person who sent him these text messages and what was their purpose? Was he meant at all? He had no answer to all these questions. But there was one thing he could not deny. The messages began to gnaw on his heart and brain. There had to be more in life than eight hours of work a day, paying off the rates for an apartment and … sex once on the weekend. Next to him, he heard Fiona snoring quietly and at some point, he had fallen asleep too. 

The breakfast the next morning went as usual. Only one thing was different: Fiona didn’t give him any more talks about a shared apartment, children or monthly rates. And Jamie would certainly not address these topics again by himself. He was glad that these topics were not on the agenda anymore. But would they stay that way? Something had to change. But what? And above all - how? 

“Berlin - U-Bahn” by [AprendixNL](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fu-bahn-berlin-verkehr-2287486%2F&t=NGU5MTgxYTc5NTNiMjAyOGRjZjY3NmE0NDlmODk1MmQxMTYxYWQ1NCxqYVhYR1lNUw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187906681275%2Fdein-sein-6-verbindung-hergestellt-1&m=1)

  
An hour later, Jamie was walking down the stairs to the subway, when his smartphone was announcing a new text:

_ "If you lose your heart, where is it? And isn’t the heart actually in your head? And does losing heart not mean the same thing as losing one’s mind?”_

Only seconds later a new text arrived::

_“Little thought out of the subway.”_

"Subway!” Jamie thought, yes, subway, his train was about to leave! He hurried down the stairs and along the already run-in train. Just as he was about to board the train, the doors closed. And there, behind the glass door, he saw her: Black, wild curls framed her fine face, from which expressive, amber eyes looked at him. The train left. But Jamie Fraser knew that he had just looked at the love of his life for a second.

* * *

_ **Thank you so much for your interest. Read next Monday, 10 pm Berlin time: “Connection established” (2) ** _


	7. Help, I need somebody! (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie sees Claire again, but ...

“Liebe” by [Takmeomeo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fh%25C3%25A4nde-liebe-paar-zusammen-finger-437968%2F&t=NWY4YjBkYzJmM2ZkN2Q0N2QzNTA5MzkyOWRjMGEyMjJlN2ZmYjhmMixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

Thirty minutes after seeing Claire in the subway, Jamie sat in a conference room at the Adlon Hotel near the Brandenburg Gate. Henriette Boots Management had chosen the most prominent hotel for the only press conference in the German capital in order to underline the importance of the singer. While Henriette Boot talked about her new album and answered first questions, Jamie read the sms he had received over and over again. What would those lines tell him? What did they say about the woman he believed she had sent?

”Hotel Adlon / Berlin” by [moerschy](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fadlon-hotel-berlin-geb%25C3%25A4ude-565508%2F&t=YmQwOTkyZTU1OTc0ODc0ZjBjMmIxMzhlMTRmNDUzYjY0YmE5ZWJiNyw1Qm5TYW9Ycg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188033750925%2Fdein-sein-7-help-i-need-somebody-1&m=1)

  
  
  
Meanwhile, Henriette Boot, asked about her impending divorce, talked long and hard about the fact that divorce was not really a separation, because everything in life remained connected and all people were love beings in their innermost being. Jamie rolled his eyes and looked back at the display of his smartphone. Should he delete the sms he received? Should he lock the number? He decided against it. Now one of his colleagues asked the singer:

“How important is love to you in life?

Henriette Boot gave a long audible sigh. Before she could answer, Jamie said (loud and audible to all present in the room):

"Probably not unimportant.”

The journalists present turned to him and Henriette Boots’ attention was now also fully focused on him.

"Your colleague seems to know the answer better than I do,” she said.

Jamie straightened up.

“Oh, sorry!”

There was a moment of embarrassing silence in the room. Jamie tried to resolve the situation:

“Well, in 1999 you told the Augsburger Express that love was what made them get up every morning. And in 2004 you told the Frankfurter Tagesanzeiger that living without love was like living without eyes, without ears, without breath. And when you were on Mark Wanz’s show last year, you said that love is like a child following a butterfly. Always as an answer to the question of how important love is to you.”

Henriette Boot nodded and remained silent. Then she whispered quietly:

"Thank you!

Jamie answered just as quietly: "You’re welcome!”

To the surprise of all present, the singer suddenly rose and left the hall.

When Jamie also left the hall shortly afterward, he met Jason in the waiting area in front of it, who was enjoying pieces from a small buffet.

“What are you doing here?”

“Jogi is having a press conference next door soon,” Jason replied, chewing his roll with pleasure. He swallowed the snack he had just bitten off and then asked:

“You remember, Jamie? That’s the national coach of our German national soccer team?”

Jamie came closer but didn’t answer.

“I understand,” Jason said, “it’s a man’s thing, not your thing.”  
  


“Fußball” by [Gellinger](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fsport-fu%25C3%259Fball-ball-rasen-2467183%2F&t=ZjQ3ZTM1ZDNhOWVkNmRmNjVkMDQ5YjU1NGExMWFkNjk0OWM4NTdhOSw1Qm5TYW9Ycg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188049998840%2Fdein-sein-7-help-i-need-somebody-1&m=1)  


Jamie still didn’t answer but looked at the display of his smartphone.

“What’s going on? Why are you looking so …?” Jason asked.

“I get such funny sms from someone here? Who’s that?”

Jamie held out the smartphone to Jason. He read the last text and said:

“Oh boy! Well, that’s some old lady.”

“What? Some old lady?”

“Dude! No guy writes like that!"

While Jamie was still looking at the display of his smartphone, Jason took the rest of his roll and his backpack.

"I have to go now. Have fun with Henriette.”

Already on his way out, he turned around again, grabbed Jamie’s arm lightly and whispered:

“And don’t forget: You are the light of my day!”

Jamie rolled his eyes and Jason walked away grinning broadly and laughing loudly.

[ ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fsport-fu%25C3%259Fball-ball-rasen-2467183%2F&t=ZjQ3ZTM1ZDNhOWVkNmRmNjVkMDQ5YjU1NGExMWFkNjk0OWM4NTdhOSw1Qm5TYW9Ycg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188049998840%2Fdein-sein-7-help-i-need-somebody-1&m=1)

“Brandenburger Tor / Berlin” [by ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fsport-fu%25C3%259Fball-ball-rasen-2467183%2F&t=ZjQ3ZTM1ZDNhOWVkNmRmNjVkMDQ5YjU1NGExMWFkNjk0OWM4NTdhOSw1Qm5TYW9Ycg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188049998840%2Fdein-sein-7-help-i-need-somebody-1&m=1)[salander](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fbrandenburger-tor-berlin-deutschland-286586%2F&t=ZGQ4NGQ1MjZhOGYyM2I1NmI3ZWJkODAzOWFmMTUzNmI5MzcwZThiZSw1Qm5TYW9Ycg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188049998840%2Fdein-sein-7-help-i-need-somebody-1&m=1)[  
  
](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fsport-fu%25C3%259Fball-ball-rasen-2467183%2F&t=ZjQ3ZTM1ZDNhOWVkNmRmNjVkMDQ5YjU1NGExMWFkNjk0OWM4NTdhOSw1Qm5TYW9Ycg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188049998840%2Fdein-sein-7-help-i-need-somebody-1&m=1)

Several kilometers away from the Brandenburg Gate, Claire and Katja lay on the floor of Katja’s living room and tried several gymnastic exercises.

"Oh man, when will this finally be over?” Claire asked annoyed.

“Stop complaining! We said, you pick something and I pick something. I ran with you too and didn’t complain!”

“You didn’t run,” Claire gave back, still annoyed. Then she let herself sink onto the gymnastics mat and looked over at Katja. Resigned she said:

“My publisher wants me to have sex!”

"Can’t you dig up some ex?” Katja asked back, still making headstand. In the next moment, she became aware of what she had just said. She let herself sink onto the gymnastics mat and said:

“Excuse me! I think I’m dizzy …”

Claire just shook her head.

“LoveCool would be just the thing for you,” Katja said now, “that’s where I met Bernd, too.”

“Oh, that’s so inhumane! Like a supermarket! I buy it! I don’t buy it! I buy it,” Claire gave back.

“But, if you like one, then you two can also write each other or something …,” said Katja, who was just about to create a profile for Claire with the said app.

“I don’t believe in that. I think I’m through with that topic. Maybe everyone has only one chance and … I had mine already,” Claire admitted and looked at Katja. At that moment her girlfriend pressed the button of her cell phone camera and asked:

“How many meetings would you have before you sleep …?” 

”Smartphone” by [JESHOOTS-com](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fiphone-smartphone-anwendungen-410324%2F&t=NDQyNjE5MmJlOWRkMzRjZmI4NDhhNDhiZWQyNzQ5MDUwYWQ5YjA0ZSw1Qm5TYW9Ycg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188049998840%2Fdein-sein-7-help-i-need-somebody-1&m=1)

“Man, Katja, I can’t do this!”

But Claire’s girlfriend didn’t listen, she just held out the smartphone with a picture of a young bodybuilder on it.

“No!” Claire said and added, “Those poor people.”

“Thoooose poooore peeeeeolpe,” Katja sang now.

“They show themselves there!”

“Theyyyyyy showww themmmselllves like that!”

“And then they just get wiped off!”

“Just! Wiped! Off!”

Katja now accompanied her singsang with gestures.

“They just want love!”

“They juuuuust waaaaant loooove!”.

Katja paused with her singing:

“Claire! They want sex!"

Again Katja showed the girlfriend a picture of a man, this time it was a rocker on his motorcycle. Claire laughed up.

"Ok, something more romantic!”

"I don’t believe it! Horzinger writes that there are four important things for love that almost never come together and they were not ‘I can Photoshop’, 'I like surfing’, 'I have a lot of hobbies’ and '20 cm’. Four important things, namely …”

Katja, who knew only too well how much Claire had internalized the philosopher Georg Horzinger’s book on love, interrupted her friend:

“Yes, yes, I know: connection, delusion, chestnuts and so on … Claire! It’s just a date!”

Once again, she held out the smartphone to Claire, this time with a picture of a man in a suit who reminded her of their professor at university. Claire rolled her eyes and got up, but Katja wanted to stop her and sang after her:

“Please don’t wipe him away, Claire, please don’t wipe him away, he’s showing himself soooooo!”

“Kneipe” by [Free-Photos](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Frestaurant-bar-z%25C3%25A4hler-menschen-690569%2F&t=YzE2MzBkYTI5ZTI0M2VjMWJjOWY1OGYzN2Q5NjI5YTRkMTM5ZTE0YSw1Qm5TYW9Ycg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188049998840%2Fdein-sein-7-help-i-need-somebody-1&m=1)

It was the same evening around 8.00 pm. Jamie and Jason had already finished their work for over an hour ago, but had still not left the editorial office of the “Berliner Beobachter”. No one was waiting for Jason at home and Jamie somehow felt no need to return to his apartment and … meet Fiona. So they had both ordered something from the pizza service, ate and were now playing a round of table soccer. Suddenly Jamie’s smartphone announced the arrival of a new message. Immediately Jamie interrupted the game, pulled the device out of his pocket and clicked on the display.

“What’s going on?” Jason asked annoyed, “Is that your damsel in distress or what?”

_“I’ll go to the Rosette tonight. Help, what am I doing here?”_ Jamie read. Then he asked:

“Do you know the 'Rosette'?”

“Rosette? Yeah, I know the bar,” Jason answered and took another big sip from his beer bottle.

“I’ll write her back,” Jamie said, but then immediately thought it over again.

“No! You know what? I’m going there!” he said, plugging in the smartphone and reaching for his jacket.

“What? Now?” Jason asked and didn’t understand the world anymore:

“Why do you want to go there now?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, it’s just a feeling!”

“Just a feeling! That’s an effort! Jamie! I just had a nice evening here!”

Jason called after his friend who was already on his way to the elevator. Then he grabbed his backpack and jacket and ran after Jamie.

Ten minutes after Jamie and Jason arrived at the 'Rosette’ and sat down at the bar, Katja and Claire also arrived - in front of the bar.

“Oh, I think I’d better go back,’ Claire said and wanted to turn around.

Katja held her back:

"Absolutely not! Look, there he is already and he is quite cute! Give me your ring!”

“No!” Claire replied, pulling Frank’s engagement ring off her finger and putting it in the pocket of her coat.

Meanwhile, Jason was guessing whether the sender of the sms might not have been a man and made Jamie even more nervous.

”Mojito” by [paulsteuber](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fcocktail-mojito-getr%25C3%25A4nk-alkoholisch-2306939%2F&t=NjRiNmRiYzkxYjNkZGUyMGU0YTA0Y2VjZjBjNGU1YTZkOGZiZmZmYiw1Qm5TYW9Ycg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188049998840%2Fdein-sein-7-help-i-need-somebody-1&m=1)

“Well,” Katja, who was still standing outside the bar with Claire, said, “remember your dating disability and don’t ask any of your stupid questions!”

“Thanks for the prep talk, makes me even more nervous!”

“Always remember: First drink, then talk! And you know: Today you have a storm-free place, Bernd has time…”

“Bernd is up for it!” Claire answered. Then she gave Katja a kiss on the cheek and went towards the bar. Shortly before she could open the door, Katja called out to her:

“Claire?”

Claire turned around.

“Don’t fuck it up!”

Claire rolled her eyes, then she went on.

When the bar door opened with a squeak, Jamie turned around. He recognized her immediately. It was the wonderful woman he had seen on the subway that morning!

“That’s her” he whispered to Jason and pushed him in the ribs.

But Claire walked past the bar and purposefully headed for a table by the window, where a man was sitting, who corresponded to the ideal image of an [08/15](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wiktionary.org%2Fwiki%2Fnullachtf%25C3%25BCnfzehn&t=ZTI5N2ZiMzEyODlhNDIwNmNlMTQxOTQ2YjFiMzYwYzlhYjdlZGI3MiwxamdTeXlNNw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188034302335%2Fbeing-yours-7-help-i-need-somebody-1&m=1) bodybuilder. 


	8. Help, I need somebody! (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie gets a chance to Claire again, but then ...
> 
> Sorry for the delay, I posted this chapter yesterday evening on tumblr, but had problems to insert the pictures. I hope tumblr works again today.

“Liebe” by [Takmeomeo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fh%25C3%25A4nde-liebe-paar-zusammen-finger-437968%2F&t=NWY4YjBkYzJmM2ZkN2Q0N2QzNTA5MzkyOWRjMGEyMjJlN2ZmYjhmMixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

From his seat at the bar, Jamie watched as a lively conversation developed between the 08/15 bodybuilder and the wonderful woman from the subway. At least the bodybuilder seemed to talk like a waterfall.

“Are you sure she is the one from the subway?” asked Jason.

“Yes, I think so,” Jamie replied.

“I’ll call her now,” Jason suggested and started typing Claire’s number into his smartphone, then he pressed the green “call” button and let it ring. But nobody picked it up.

“Switched off,” he whispered in Jamie’s direction.

Suddenly the bodybuilder stood up and went towards the toilet. Just a moment later, Jamie’s smartphone reported the arrival of a new message:

_“But somehow he’s too beautiful … What’s he doing with his hair all the time?”_

Jamie looked after the bodybuilder, who, in the middle of walking, was driving his right hand through his hair. He kicked into Jason’s ribs with his right elbow and, when he looked up from his smartphone, asked:

“Say, is it beautiful?”

“Whot?“ Jason asked with a disbelieving expression on his face.

"Do you think he’s a very beautiful man? Say something!”

Jason looked after the bodybuilder.

"I don’t know! No man knows that except … you like men.”

Jason looked at his smartphone again, then he showed it to Jamie:

“Here, look. She’s around here somewhere!”

Jason looked around.

Reluctantly Jamie looked at the device. The picture of Katja appeared on it. Jamie shook his head:

"Oh, leave me alone with your sex app!”

“That’s not a sex app! It’s about love!”

“Concentrate!”

“Ok, I concentrate. I’ll take quite a lot of sacrifices for you!”

But Jamie didn’t listen anymore. He looked over to the table by the window where Claire was sitting. The bodybuilder came back and they continued their conversation. Once or twice he heard Claire laugh.

“Kneipe” by [Free-Photos](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Frestaurant-bar-z%25C3%25A4hler-menschen-690569%2F&t=YzE2MzBkYTI5ZTI0M2VjMWJjOWY1OGYzN2Q5NjI5YTRkMTM5ZTE0YSw1Qm5TYW9Ycg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188049998840%2Fdein-sein-7-help-i-need-somebody-1&m=1)

“That’s her! Like I said!”

“Doesn’t look particularly unhappy, your new love,” said Jason. Seeing Jamie’s frustrated gaze, however, the friend immediately turned back to his smartphone. Suddenly Claire and the bodybuilder rose. He helped her into her coat and then they walked past the bar and to the exit.

“Mission failed! She went with the Disney prince,” said Jason. But when he saw Jamie’s disappointed face, he added:

“Don’t worry! Disney princes are bad in bed!”

As if that would help him! Jamie tipped down the whiskey in front of him and ordered a second one. In the course of the evening, there should be some more whiskeys…

While Jamie drowned his grief in Scottish whiskey in the Rosette, Claire defended herself a few kilometers away - successfully - against the bodybuilder’s intrusiveness. She certainly hadn’t imagined the first date like this. This man just couldn’t keep his hands on him. Only fifteen minutes after they arrived at Katja’s apartment, she had already kicked him out again. Annoyed, she searched for Frank’s ring. When she had finally found it in one of her coat pockets, she put it on and breathed out calmly. What an evening! All this nonsense about online dating! She had known it from the beginning. Never again would she do such a stupid thing! She decided to shower extensively to wash off the smell of the bar (and thus the memory of the bodybuilder). After that was done, she drank a full glass of wine and went to bed. Despite the alcohol, she couldn’t fall asleep right away. But at some point, she finally cried herself into sleep.

Meanwhile, Jamie had arrived at his apartment staggering slightly. He fell on his bed like a stone. Then he reached for his smartphone and clicked on Fiona’s number. After about a minute, her completely sleepy voice came forward:

"Hello?”

“Maybe we should move in together,’ he slurred without thinking.

"Jamie, are you drunk?”

“Pretty much…”

All he heard then was an annoying loud “Oh!” and the click that ended the call. Jamie decided not to get angry at this moment, but just to fall asleep. He turned to his side and shortly afterwards his snoring filled the room.

“Whiskey” by [markusspiske](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fwhiskey-alkohol-trinken-sucht-1486365%2F&t=MWRlYmJjMWRkNWM1MzUwNjRjMWI5ODhiM2IyZTkyYTMwNjcxYjE5NixVYk11SFU1Nw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188197836785%2Fdein-sein-8-help-i-need-somebody-2&m=1)

The next morning, Katja found a Post-it note from Claire on the fridge of her apartment.

“You’ll find me at the ‘Golden Hen’” it said.

Katja gave a deep sigh and after she had dressed, she went to the pub. As she stepped through the door, Kalle looked at her with a worried look and nodded his head towards the guest room in the back of the pub. There Katja found Claire at their regular place. Bored, she chewed on a curry sausage. Katja knew immediately: The date of the last evening before had gone wrong. Shortly afterward Claire confirmed this impression:

“I no longer trust my gut feeling. Instead of getting up and walking away when the guy tells me his motto for life, I tried to make him intelligent by drinking.”

"What was his motto?” Katja asked with interest.

“The pain is for the moment, the pride for a lifetime.”

Katja twisted her eyes and sighed.

“I can’t always get sad when I kiss someone, can I? Am I sad for the rest of my life now?”

Katja did not know the answer. So she tried to distract Claire:

"What’s going on with your new book?”

“I can’t write a book about a cheerful caterpillar right now!”

“Oh Claire, what do we do with you?” Katja asked and pulled Claire into her arms.

“What’s going on with Bernd?” she asked.

“He? He is still in the decision-making process.”

"Forget him” advised Claire.

“I’m on my way,” Katja answered with little conviction.

“Schreibtisch” by [rawpixel ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fschreibtisch-arbeit-gesch%25C3%25A4ft-b%25C3%25BCro-3139127%2F&t=ODQ3NWI0M2JlMWQ5NmFlOTJjMzQ1ZDIwYWY0YTg4MDYzNzBhODNiMyxVYk11SFU1Nw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188197836785%2Fdein-sein-8-help-i-need-somebody-2&m=1)

When Jamie finally sat at his desk in the editorial office of the Berlin Beobachter nine hours after falling asleep drunk, he was still completely hungover. Suddenly the phone rang.

“Yes?”

It was Fiona who, as always, came straight to the point:

“It’s not okay for you to call me in the middle of the night!”

“But why? If we lived together, then I could wake you up at night too…”

“No! Then you would sleep in the bathtub right away!”

Jamie didn’t know what to say in return except:

“I’m sorry.”

“And how is your decision now while you’re sober?”

At that very moment, his smartphone signaled the arrival of a new sms.

"Hello? Hello Jamie? Jamie!”

He tried to read the new sms and listen to Fiona at the same time, but his hangover head wasn’t in the camp yet.

“I’m sorry, the boss wants to talk to me. I’ll call you back later” he lied and hung up.

Fiona looked at her smartphone in rage.

Jamie also stared at his smartphone, which was now reporting the arrival of new messages at ever shorter intervals.

_“He didn’t kiss like you.”_

_ “He didn’t touch me like you.”_

_ “He didn’t smell like you.”_

Jamie got up and ran over to Jason’s desk.

“Here! She messaged again!”

Then he read aloud:

_“He didn’t kiss like you.”_

_ “He didn’t touch me like you!”_

_ “He didn’t smell like you.”_

”Smartphone” by [fancycrave1](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Ftelefon-halten-ger%25C3%25A4t-gadget-iphone-916392%2F&t=NWVmNjZhNWY2ODEzMDFlN2I1NTY5MmQzMDg5MDhiMzE5NjgyODQyOSxVYk11SFU1Nw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188197836785%2Fdein-sein-8-help-i-need-somebody-2&m=1)

Jason looked at him slightly bored. Then he took the pencil out of his mouth and said:

“So what?”

“That’s from her! Don’t you understand? She doesn’t want the Disney prince,” Jamie said enthusiastically.

Jason took a deep breath.

“I told you that. Disney princes are bad in bed! And now? Are you in love with them or what?”

“I don’t know either,” Jamie admitted, “somehow it won’t let me go.”

Jason looked at Jamie pitifully.

“I told you not to drink cola from plastic bottles. There’s plasticizer in there.”

Jamie decided to ignore the insult.

“Come on, now stay serious!”

"I should stay serious? You rave about a woman who sends endlessly long sms to her ex-boyfriend or who else! Man, that woman is somewhere between good and evil!”

Jason put the pencil back in his mouth and turned to his screen.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend your new girlfriend.”

“Oh man, I don’t know …. but she touches my heart.”

Jason turned back to Jamie and looked at him as if he was about to call a doctor.

“Jamie …,” he said shaking his head, “are you crying on Barbara Streisand’s films now?”

Jamie did not respond to the insult again but asked:

“So are you helping me?”

“Yes, of course,” Jason answered resignedly, “what should I do?”

Before Jamie could answer, the conversation was interrupted by the vibration of Jason’s smartphone. Jason grabbed the device and took the conversation.

"Hello?”

“Yes, hello. You called me yesterday,” said a woman’s voice.

“Frau” by [kaboompics](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Ffrau-m%25C3%25A4dchen-dame-jung-diskussion-791874%2F&t=ZWE4NGZlMjIzN2YyMjhjYjllMGVmZGM2YWJjZmZhYTA4ODE3MDE0YSxVYk11SFU1Nw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188197836785%2Fdein-sein-8-help-i-need-somebody-2&m=1)

Jason pulled a questioning face.

“Who is there?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s what I would like to know from you,” replied the woman’s voice.

“This is Jason. And who is there?”

"Claire. Claire Beauchamp. Why did you call me?”

“Oh, I may have misdialed,” he lied.

At that moment Jamie shot over the desk and wanted to reach for the smartphone. But Jason fought him off.

“Okay, bye then,” Claire said.

“Goodbye,” Jason gave back. Then he turned to Jamie:

“That was her! Claire! Claire Beauchamp!”

Jamie didn’t know whether to be enthusiastic or disappointed. On the one hand, he was happy that he finally knew the name of the beautiful woman from the subway, on the other hand, he would have loved to talk to her. However, if he wanted to be honest with himself, he had to admit that he didn’t know what he could have talked to her about.

“I’ll call her back,’ Jason suggested.

"No, man! Are you crazy! What do you want to tell her?”

At that moment Charlotta came around the corner with two big cups of coffee.

“Kaffee” by [HolgersFotografie](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fkaffee-cafe-kaffeetasse-getr%25C3%25A4nk-3014019%2F&t=ZDBlZmZhMTliNjFkZGQ3MDE0NzFiY2FhOTk0MjA2YjNiMjMxZjdhNixVYk11SFU1Nw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188197836785%2Fdein-sein-8-help-i-need-somebody-2&m=1)

“What is going on here,” she asked with her friendly squeaky voice and put a cup of coffee in front of each of the men.

“Oh,” Jamie replied, “that would be far too long a story.”

“I have _always_ time for too long a story,” Charlotta answered.

A quarter of an hour later she was sitting in Jason’s chair, crying and sniffing, pulling Kleenex after Kleenex out of the box Jamie had put up for her.

“Because … sniff …. because … sniff …”

“He’s dead?” Jamie asked, but the question sounded more like a statement.

“Yes,” Charlotta sniffed back.

Jamie looked indecisively. Then he straightened up.

“I have to go, I … have to go to an apartment tour.”

Jason and Charlotta nodded to him. He nodded back and reluctantly made his way to the address Fiona had sent him.


	9. Help, I need somebody! (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamia and Fiona meet wth an accommodation broker. Claire tries to write a new book. And finally, Jamie meets Henriette Boot.

“Liebe” by [Takmeomeo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fh%25C3%25A4nde-liebe-paar-zusammen-finger-437968%2F&t=NWY4YjBkYzJmM2ZkN2Q0N2QzNTA5MzkyOWRjMGEyMjJlN2ZmYjhmMixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

When Jamie arrived at the address Fiona had given him, she was already in the kitchen. In her hand, she had a clipboard with a multi-page checklist for the new apartment. They greeted each other briefly:

“The kitchen is beautiful, isn’t it? I like the colors!”

But Jamie wasn’t in the mood for a conversation about kitchen equipment.

"Say, do you remember how we met?”

“Of course, when nobody wanted to go for a drink after volleyball,” Fiona replied while noting on her clipboard that the kitchen counter had four sockets.

“Exactly,” Jamie agreed and asked, “and did you have a … um … love orgasm when you saw me?”

Fiona laughed half hysterically:

“Love orgasm?! That’s the stupidest word I’ve ever heard.”

“Modern” by qimono  
  


She went off towards the bathroom. Jamie followed her.

"Yes, okay, I know it’s a stupid word. But did you have one? Did you feel like your legs were getting soft? Just like an orgasm, only without sex?“

"I’m sure my legs have become soft at some point,” Fiona said, as she intensively examined the doors and drawers of the walk-in wardrobe.

“How big is the maintenance reserve?” she then asked the house agent, who had followed the two from the kitchen.

“I’ll fax them the overview as well,” the man in the dark blue suit replied.

“Recently I read that arranged marriages last even longer than our random marriages. It’s really about something else in life than soft legs!”

Fiona inspected the taps in the bathroom.

“But you wouldn’t have wanted your parents to pick a husband, would you?” Jamie asked in astonishment.

“Why not?” Fiona replied to his surprise and added: “Today everyone always wants everything: The sex should be great, the man should be the best friend, the one to whom you can entrust everything. What actually happened to good old ‘It’s ok’? Tell me, do you see mold somewhere here?”

Fiona opened the lid of the toilet and examined it. Then she pressed the flush button. Obviously, she was satisfied with what she saw.

“Yes, it’s true what you’re saying. Sounds right to me somehow.”

“Somehow?” she asked and looked at him frowning as she took a picture of the sinks.

"Yes, but it also sounds like something is missing? Don’t you also want the magic? The poetry? Don’t you want much more than you are entitled to, because it’s all about everything?

Fiona closed the bathroom door and left Jamie behind.

He shouted "Hello,” completely surprised.

She opened the door and smiled at him.

“Bath” by midascode  
  


"I just wanted to see if the door was soundproof.“

"Yes, it’s about more. Your whole love, your whole heart, your whole being…”

Fiona took a quick step towards the living room. Jamie followed her.

"But my whole being can’t depend on chance.“

"Yes, that’s why, but you’re saying that you actually want more! If you supposedly always plan everything exactly, then everything is always ok with it”!

Fiona turned again to the agent:

"The floor here,“ she said and pointed to a defective tile, "but that’s still going to be done, isn’t it?”

The agent nodded and Fiona turned back to Jamie.

"Yes, please,“ she asked.

"You’re actually just afraid that it can go totally wrong! You’re afraid of winter and don’t go into the sun because of it!

Fiona turned to the agent again:

"The outside walls are well insulated, aren’t they?”

Again the realtor nodded.

"30 sockets,“ Fiona noted.

Jamie approached her from behind:

"A bit big the apartment, isn’t it?”

"Why? Do you want to move again in two years?“

"Why in two years?”

"Didn’t you pay attention again?“ Fiona asked frustratedly.

"When we enlarge,” she continued, making a movement that implied a very round baby belly, “then we need a bigger apartment, too.”

"Ah so, yes …“

Fiona turned to the agent again:

"Is there an energy pass?”

"Of course!“

"Good, then we want to apply. Jamie, your salary statement!”

"Oh, I don’t have it now …“

Fiona looked at him frustrated and angry at the same time:

"You had a job! A single job!”

"Living room” by Pexels  
  


The journey home was unpleasantly quiet. Arriving at Jamie’s apartment, they ate the food they had bought on the way in silence. Fiona moved into the bedroom early, while Jamie made herself comfortable on the sofa with the biography of Henriette Boot. At some point, he fell asleep. When he woke up in the morning with a slightly aching back, Fiona had already left the apartment. That had happened several times before, but this time he didn’t find a prepared breakfast on the kitchen table and there wasn’t a second cup of coffee in the pot of the coffee machine either. Should he interpret all this as a good or a bad sign? He did not know.

While Jamie was visiting apartments and thought about the future of his relationship with Fiona, Claire tried to create a new, funny story for the “Caterpillar, called Cate”. But it just didn’t want to happen. She just didn’t succeed. Finally, Claire decided to make a small trip and drove to the next kebab shop. There she bought two small doner kebabs. When she sat in the car again, she unpacked both doner kebabs and put one of them on the passenger side. Then she said:

“Bon appetit” and bit into her piece.

While she was eating, she looked out of the window. It seemed as if only couples were coming towards her car. A retired couple crossed a zebra crossing, two young people who had just fallen in love walked past her car snogging, and when she looked across the street, she could see two schoolchildren sharing their sandwiches. She sighed:

“I wouldn’t even have the chance to get a seat on Noah’s Ark.”

Her eyes fell on the doner kebab, which was still lying untouched in the passenger seat.

“Don’t you want yours?” she asked. Then she sighed again, grabbed the other kebab and bit into it.  
  


“Döner” by HutchRock

The next day, it was Jamie’s big day. Finally, he had an interview with Henriette Boot. After sitting about 30 minutes in the corridor in front of her Suite, the door opened and the singer’s assistant shouted:   
  
“Berliner Beobachter! Fraser!” 

Jamie got up and sat on an elegant sofa shortly afterward. Opposite him, Henriette Boot had taken a seat on a sofa too. What happened then, would give Jamie’s life a completely new direction.


	10. Help, I need somebody! (4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie meets Henriette Boot, but the interview goes completely different than expected.

“Liebe” by [Takmeomeo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fh%25C3%25A4nde-liebe-paar-zusammen-finger-437968%2F&t=NWY4YjBkYzJmM2ZkN2Q0N2QzNTA5MzkyOWRjMGEyMjJlN2ZmYjhmMixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

The next day was Jamie’s big day. Finally, he had an interview with Henriette Boot. After sitting about 30 minutes in the corridor in front of her apartment, the door opened and the singer’s assistant shouted:  
  
"Berliner Beobachter! Fraser!”

“Sofa” by [leemelina08 ](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fhome-gep%25C3%25A4ck-sofa-casa-cor-1622401%2F&t=YWY2MTA4MzM0ZjAyMDQxNjViNDcxNGNkNTg3MmNmMmMyN2QwNGRmYSxzR2xHYmk4Ng%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188499331460%2Fdein-sein-10-help-i-need-somebody-4&m=1)

  
  
Jamie got up and sat on an elegant sofa shortly afterward. Opposite to him, Henriette Boot had taken a seat on an equal sofa. Before he could say anything, the singer clapped her hands. Then she stood up, ran through the room and clapped several times in a row. Jamie watched her in wonder. Finally, the singer sat down again:**  
**

"Better, isn’t it?“

"Um… yes?”

Henriette Boot beamed and sat down again. Jamie tried once again to start the talk:

"Mrs. Boot, you are standing for Germany like the national football team or the Oktoberfest. But where does the artificial figure end? How much of the real person do you allow to be seen?”

Henriette Boot stared at him and … remained silent.

"Hm,“ was all Jamie could say.

He picked up the folder with questions he had put together in the past few days.

"Your next single is about a butterfly wanting to fly,” he said to the singer.

Her face lit up immediately. She began to smile and breathed a tender

"Yes.“

"Who says that he or she’s a butterfly?” Jamie asked. 

Henriette Boot’s facial expression darkened instantly. 

"The _butterfly_,“ she then said (in a tone as if she had to teach a first-grader), "is a symbol of renewal, transformation in many cultures of this world.”

“Transformation?” Jamie asked with a tone in his voice, making known his suspicion audible.

“Schmetterling” by [minka2507](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fschmetterling-insekt-tier-4072574%2F&t=OGMxYTJhZjk1YjRhNzZlODkyMjQzZTNlMzFmNTc5MGY2ZjM3YTkyMCxzR2xHYmk4Ng%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188499331460%2Fdein-sein-10-help-i-need-somebody-4&m=1)

Henriette Bott jumped up.

"It’s really very exhausting with an energy vacuum cleaner like you! Do you have any idea of your higher self, Mr. Fraser? Do you feel the connection?”

Jamie looked at her again in amazement.

Now Henriette Boot bent down to him:

"You are a clever man, Mr. Fraser. But you are not here. You have the presence of used underpants.“

Jamie thought he was hit by lightning.

The singer took a seat on her sofa again. Then she commanded:

"Now! Sit up straight! Let your arms hang! And then breathe out deeeeep. Everything has to come ooooooouuuuuuuttttttt!”

She saw that Jamie looked at her distraught.

"Come on, Mr. Fraser! Close your eyes!“

Jamie obeyed. If he had to play along with this nonsense to get the interview Setzmann wanted, he would do it. So he breathed in deeply and out deeply. Suddenly Henriette Boot asked him:

"Are you in love?”

Jamie opened her eyes.

"Maybe.“

"Maybe? Maybe! You’re an even more difficult case than I thought!”

"Yes, no, it … is … complicated.“

Jamie hid his face in his hands.

"Whaaat?”

"Well, you ask me if I’m in love and I say ‘yes’ and … I’m … not at all thinking about my girlfriend!“

"But?  
  


It was like a liberation. Suddenly the words broke out from the depths inside him. He wondered how he came to entrust his innermost thoughts to this completely unknown woman. But then he wiped his reservations aside. For the first time, he sat opposite a person of whom he intuitively had the impression that she was really interested in him. He talked about his messed up relationship with Fiona, about the new smartphone, about the messages reaching him, about his first ‘meeting’ with Claire at the subway station and about the failure at the bar. At the command of Henriette Boot, they moved from the sofas to the floor. They lay side by side on the thick soft carpet and looked at the white ceiling. Then Jamie asked:

"Have you ever had a … love orgasm?”

To his great surprise, Henriette Boot didn’t find this question crazy at all. On the contrary, she began to talk. About her marriage, about a holiday trip to the Andes and how she had met her husband there:

"We looked at each other and it was as if we had known each other for a lifetime.“

Henriette Boot told and told. At some point she said:

"Love, Mr. Fraser, knows no 'maybe’!

Then suddenly the door opened and the assistant appeared:

"So, your time is over.”

"Yes, but … I must … but still … do the interview with you,“ he said.

Henriette Boot took his hand and put something inside. Then she closed her fist. And she said:

"Next time, come to me as a man.”

“Anruf” by [niekverlaan](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Ftelefon-mobil-anruf-samsung-iphone-586266%2F&t=NmFkMDY5NDgyYWE3ZTQ1MWE4MTI2Y2QwN2E0YTVmZmExZTI4NTExOSxzR2xHYmk4Ng%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188499331460%2Fdein-sein-10-help-i-need-somebody-4&m=1)

Less than a minute later he found himself outside the door of the hotel suite. At that very moment, his smartphones announced a new sms:

_“I will stop writing to you now. I’m getting weird. If anything happens, I’m in the Golden Hen.”_

While Jamie was lying on the soft thick carpet of Henriette Boot’s hotel suite, Claire sat in front of the small terrarium with a number of caterpillars in. She had bought it on that day. Katja came into the room and said:

"What are the caterpillars doing in my kitchen?“

"Nothing,” Claire answered annoyed.

"Have you been to the cemetery yet?“

"Leave me alone!”

"I’ll leave you alone for a while,“ Katja replied and disappeared. 

When Jamie came home that evening, to his surprise, Fiona sat at the kitchen table. Next to her was a large black rolling case and a packed travel bag.

"I … didn’t … expect you at all,” Jamie admitted in surprise.

"You forgot the salary documents again.“

He didn’t know what to say. But Fiona did not seem to be interested at all in an answer and continued immediately:

"You liked it so poetically recently. I have a poem for you:

‘They were sad   
behaved cheerfully  
attempted kisses  
as if nothing had happened  
And then she cried  
and he stood beside.’”

Jamie opened the fridge and grabbed the vodka bottle. Then he took two glasses from the cupboard and put them on the table. He filled the glasses and pushed one to Fiona. She took it and drank it in one go. He did it like her.

"We can stay friends, of course. I don’t need a common goal with friends,“ she said and tipped down the second vodka. When he said nothing, she asked: 

"You are silent? I take that as consent. In a few months, it won’t feel strange anymore. Then I’ll call you.”

Fiona got up and left the apartment.

“Koffer” by [webandi](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fzahlenschloss-koffer-aktenkoffer-1224702%2F&t=NTgzYTcxZmFkOGZhODRhNGY0ODEzOTgwZWFjMDMxZDRjY2QyNDVkMCxzR2xHYmk4Ng%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188499331460%2Fdein-sein-10-help-i-need-somebody-4&m=1)

Jamie counted up to a hundred, then he jumped up, put his coat back on and ran down the stairs. Just in time, he reached the subway that took him to the neighborhood where Jason lived. Ten minutes later he stood in front of Jason’s apartment door and rang the doorbell. Jason opened the door and before he could say anything, Jamie began to tell:

"She doesn’t write anymore!

"F*ck!“

"Do you know a 'Golden Hen’? Can we go there?”

"Yes, of course. Tomorrow?

Forty minutes later, they sat at a table in the back of the ‘Golden Hen’ and drank a beer. Then they each ordered curry-wurst. This was the beginning of an odyssey that should take Jamie on his way to Claire through a wild sea of emotions.

Like a drug addict waiting for his dealer’s message, Jamie waited for a new sms from Claire. But as often as he looked at his smartphone, there was no new message. So he decided: If Claire didn’t come to him, he just had to go to her.

Monday evening, right after work, he went with Jason to the 'Golden Henne’. They ate curry-wurst and drank beer. Around 8 p.m., Claire still hadn’t shown up, they gave up and left the bar. Only a few minutes later Claire and Katja appeared and ordered a large portion of French fries. 

On Tuesday evening, the sports editorial team had to work longer because of am important football match. It was already 9 p.m. when Jamie and Jason arrived at the 'Golden Henne’ and ordered curry-wurst and beer. But even that evening they had no luck. How could they? Claire and Katja had eaten in the ‘Golden Henne’ after a shopping spree in the city. They had already gone home at 7.30 p.m., for a nice television evening.

On Wednesday, Jamie and Jason arrived at 7 p.m. at the ‘Golden Hen’. They couldn’t have guessed that Katja was “sick” (she had clearly drunk too much the night before) and Claire didn’t feel like having a lonely dinner at the pub. She had ordered Schnitzel with fries and vegetables from Kalle by telephone and then picked up the food on the way home. 

Thursday and Friday were also unsuccessful for Jamie and Jason. When Jamie picked Jason up on Saturday and wanted to go to the ‘Golden Hen’ with him, the friend rebelled. He couldn’t see any curry-wurst anymore, he said. Besides, their mission was not crowned with success anyway. Jamie agreed and so they went to a kiosk offering fried chicken pieces and fries. They also drank … a beer.

“Currywurst” by [planet_fox](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fcurrywurst-curry-ketschup-w%25C3%25BCrstchen-4108522%2F&t=YWQ4OWRkOGVhYWFjODUzOWQzMWEyZGJhNTE1ODA2N2Q1ZDJkNDUzYyxzR2xHYmk4Ng%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188499331460%2Fdein-sein-10-help-i-need-somebody-4&m=1)

While they ate, Jamie kept looking at his smartphone. 

"Jamie! Why don’t you stop it? How long is this going to last! You look at your phone, you look at the door! You look at your phone, you look at the door! That’s sick, isn’t it?”

But at this moment the Jamies Smartphone announced a new message.

"Here! That’s her" he shouted. Then he read aloud:

_“Here, where never the sorrow of lamenting sound only delight and lust reigns.”_

He looked astonished, then he asked:

"What is that? What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Jason’s gaze fell on a poster on a nearby advertising column. There an opera was announced and exactly these lines were also found on the poster.

"Well, everyone with a little general education knows that,” Jason replied. When Jamie did not react immediately, he added: “It’s opera!”

"Opera?”

"Yes, Orpheus and Eurydice!”

"And from whom is that?“

"How? From whom?

"Well, who wrote it?”

Once again Jason looked stealthily at the poster. Then he said:

“Litfaßsäule” by [Gina_Janosch](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Flitfa%25C3%259Fs%25C3%25A4ule-litfass-plakate-668659%2F&t=ZGRmZGE2Y2VmOGJhY2UyMDE2ODgwNzFiZmViNDIwNGQ2ODAwMTExOCxzR2xHYmk4Ng%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188499331460%2Fdein-sein-10-help-i-need-somebody-4&m=1)

"Gluck! Christoph Willibald Gluck!“

"All clear! Then, tonight, it’s opera!”

"And? Whom you are taking with you?“

"With you,” Jamie replied and friendly hit Jason on the shoulder. 

"Sausage is one thing, Jamie, but I don’t go to the opera every night,” Jason protested.

"Why? A little bit of culture can’t hurt you!”

* * *

**_Thank you for reading. Next Monday evening, 10 pm Berlin time, read chapter 11 when Jamie will see Claire again …_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The verses from the poem are taken from Erich Käster's poem "Sachliche Romanze" ('Matter-of-fact Romance'), 1929, translation: mine.


	11. Help, I met somebody! (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire meet again and this time ...

“Liebe” by [Takmeomeo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fh%25C3%25A4nde-liebe-paar-zusammen-finger-437968%2F&t=NWY4YjBkYzJmM2ZkN2Q0N2QzNTA5MzkyOWRjMGEyMjJlN2ZmYjhmMixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

Six hours after their lunch at the snack bar, Jamie and Jason, both dressed in covered suits according to the occasion, stood on the top step in front of the entrance to the Berlin Opera waiting for Claire.

“What are you looking like a dog at a vegan party,” Jamie asked.

“Opera! Dude! The squeaking! I don’t understand a word!

At that moment, a waitress was passing by, handing out the program of the evening. Jamie grabbed one and passed it on to Jason:

“Here! Everything is in there!

Jason read it briefly, then said:

"Four hours! Jamie! The whole thing takes four hours!”

“Well, you can let that affect you!”

“Jamie! Please! I don’t want that.”

“Konzerthaus Berlin” - Photo: “Diego Delso, delso.photo, License CC-BY-SA” [CC BY-SA 4.0 ([https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fcreativecommons.org%2Flicenses%2Fby-sa%2F4.0&t=N2RkM2UxNjBlZTc1N2QwNjU1OTZiMmQxMzljYjFmYmVkNWU4OWYzMixtdlJRc3c2eA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188662294175%2Fbeing-yours-11-help-i-met-somebody-1&m=1))]

While Jason still tried in vain to defend himself against having to endure four hours of opera, Claire and Katja stood at one of the drinks counters inside the opera. They had entered the building through one of the side entrances. While they drank a glass of champagne, a short conversation between them relaxed:

“So you don’t dare to go to the cemetery, but you go to ‘Orpheus and Eurydice’ because you hope it will help you with your writer’s block,” Katja asked, then continued: “He brings her back from the underworld. That’s not funny!”

"How do you know what happens in Orpheus and Eurydice?”

“Oh, excuse me! That’s general education, isn’t it?”

Claire didn’t seem to believe her and actually, it wasn’t true either. Katja knew she couldn’t fool her friend, so she admitted:

“'Orphy and Eury, Part 3 and Part 4, Battles in the Underworld’, I programmed the game! But … well, you know …”

Suddenly the gong sounded.

“Berlin, Staatsoper Unter den Linden, Café im Keller” - Photo: Andreas Praefcke [CC BY 3.0 ([https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fcreativecommons.org%2Flicenses%2Fby%2F3.0&t=Y2I1YTM1NTdiYzcyZmI3OTY2Y2Q2YTRhMzYyZjZlNmU0YjZjNzcyYSxtdlJRc3c2eA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188662294175%2Fbeing-yours-11-help-i-met-somebody-1&m=1))]

“_Youuu_,” Katja said like she wanted to say goodbye to Claire, “I have to go now. Because I’m going to the opera now. Orphy and Ulrike are starting.”

Claire laughed, then she followed her friend into the big hall. Shortly afterward they took their seats and Katja whispered:

"Oh man, it’s like swimming for seniors here!”

Then she clicked around on her smartphone and opened the same app that Jason had shown to Jamie at the Rosette. Jason’s picture popped up in front of Katja.

“This guy is always around!”

She whispered:

"I don’t want you!” Then she wiped Jason away.

During the first part, Katja’s smartphone vibrated several times. Claire asked if it was Bernd, but Katja denied it. Shortly afterward she said goodbye, allegedly she had to make an appointment for work.

"Work …” Claire thought. She knew exactly that it wasn’t true, but she forgave Katja. It was probably better if she was alone anyway. So she could concentrate much better on the opera than when she was constantly disturbed by Katja and her smartphone.

Meanwhile, Jason asked, “Is she dead?”

"Yes, that’s the whole point!” Jamie answered annoyed.

“I’m leaving now,” said Jason, trying to get up.

Jamie pulled him back to the seat.

“Stay seated!”

"Bejun Mehta, Anna Prohaska, Orfeo ed Euridice, Berlin State Opera, 2016″   
Photo: Christian Michelides [CC BY-SA 4.0 ([https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fcreativecommons.org%2Flicenses%2Fby-sa%2F4.0&t=N2RkM2UxNjBlZTc1N2QwNjU1OTZiMmQxMzljYjFmYmVkNWU4OWYzMixtdlJRc3c2eA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188662294175%2Fbeing-yours-11-help-i-met-somebody-1&m=1))]

  
  


That’s when he saw Claire.

"There she is!”

“She doesn’t like it either,” said Jason, who despite the darkening had realized that Claire was crying.

From that moment on, Jamie had eyes for nothing else, staring at Claire for the next three hours and trying to absorb everything he saw.

Meanwhile, Jason had stuck the headphones of his smartphone on, leaned back and played playlist after playlist. The main thing was that he didn’t have to hear ‘the squeaking’ anymore.

When the opera was finally over, Jamie hurried down the hall and stairs with quick steps. He was determined to wait for Claire at the entrance before she left the opera. And then it happened.

With great grace and obviously in deep thoughts, Claire came down the right outer staircase. She had already pulled her coat over her white satin suit. She held her scarf in her hands. All of a sudden she felt herself being watched and indeed, as she looked to the left, she looked into the expectant face of a handsome, tall man, mid-30s with conspicuously red hair.

Jamie felt all his strength leave him. This woman was even more beautiful 'in nature’ than he remembered her. Now she even looked at him! Was what he experienced here the same as what was described in legends and myths as an apparition? He did not know. All he knew was that she was beautiful and that the encounter with her made him speechless. Now she turned to him and approached him! He almost turned around to see if someone was standing behind him expecting her. But no! She smiled at him, coughed a little and then, then spoke to him:

_“Do we know each other?”_

Jamie kneaded his hands, turned red and thought he had to sink into the ground.

“I … I don’t know … either,’ he said quietly.

Claire stopped for a moment and looked at him. He looked at her and wished again to be able to absorb her sight completely. Suddenly Claire went one step further:

_ "Well then…”_

Jamie took all her courage and walked in her way:

“But not knowing each other can’t be a mistake. Some people live together for years and do not know each other. And you can’t make seven billion people responsible for not knowing each other, or?”

Claire looked at the unknown man in astonishment. What is he talking about?

“What I mean to say is, we are all strangers to each other. But … but we could stop being strangers to each other, _couldn’t we?_”

Claire smiled and at that moment the last remnant of strength left Jamie.

“Will you give me your mobile number?” he heard Claire ask.

“Yes, of course, with pleasure, excellent,” Jamie replied. But then he paused:

“Um, the thing is, I don’t have a mobile at all…”

“What? People without a mobile still exist today?” Claire asked incredulously.

“Yes, but I’m not really weird at all, so I’m not really weird, I just don’t like to talk on the phone while walking. But you can call me at the editorial office. I’ll just write down …”

He pulled a pen and a small notepad out of the inside of his jacket.

“…the number for you. James … James Fraser.”

He handed her the note.

She took it, looked briefly at it and said:

“Thank you! Claire … Claire Beauchamp.”

Jamie was silent. He just wanted to look at her and hear her voice.

“Well,” he heard Claire say, “then we’re almost no strangers to each other anymore.”

“Yes, right,’ he replied.

Claire smiled at him again and then walked past him. He looked after her. Suddenly she turned around again and her wonderful black curls began to move in waves. She looked at him, nodded and smiled. Jamie smiled and nodded back. Then she had disappeared in the exit. Shortly afterward Jason appeared. In his hands, he held two beer glasses. He handed one of them to Jamie. He drank the beer in one go. Jason looked at him with big eyes.

"Berlin State Opera Auditorium” - Photo: Andreas Praefcke  
[CC BY 3.0 ([https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fcreativecommons.org%2Flicenses%2Fby%2F3.0&t=Y2I1YTM1NTdiYzcyZmI3OTY2Y2Q2YTRhMzYyZjZlNmU0YjZjNzcyYSxtdlJRc3c2eA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188662294175%2Fbeing-yours-11-help-i-met-somebody-1&m=1))]

“Don’t look like that,” Jamie said and pressed the empty glass into Jason’s hand. Then he grabbed the second glass and emptied it in a single move. Jason looked at him as if he had seen a ghost.

“Don’t look like that,” Jamie said again, “I just talked to her. I could use three double vodkas now.”

Jason offered to go to a bar, but Jamie thankfully refused. He wanted to, he had to be alone now.

Half an hour later a taxi dropped him off at his front door and shortly afterward he dropped onto his sofa. At that moment his smartphone reported the arrival of a new message. Jamie immediately wanted to check what Claire had written. But then he paused. What if she hadn’t found their encounter so positive? Again the smartphone made a sound. And again Jamie held back. Only when the smartphone reported the arrival of “Six New Messages” did he begin to read:

_“This may come as a surprise now.”_

_ “Don’t be angry.”_

_ “I met someone and somehow …”_

_ “As if…”_

_ “… Something’s gonna…“_

_ “?”_

_"I hope you can understand that. Goodnight.”_

A soft smile slipped over Jamie’s face. He sighed. Then he said quietly:

“Goodnight.”

He breathed out and let out an audible sigh.  
  


Suddenly the device reported the arrival of another message:  
  


_ “PS: Where are the mirabelle plums now? I need the mirabelle plums!”  
_

A broad grin went over Jamie’s face.

“Mirabelles” - photo: hansbenn  


That night James Fraser slept deeply and soundly. And he dreamed. He dreamed of a beautiful young woman in a white satin suit with long, black curls. He dreamt of how he embraced her and kissed her. He dreamed … until at 7.30 am his alarm clock brought him back to reality. But instead of annoyingly hitting the device, Jamie knocked the blanket aside, jumped out of bed, and in less than a minute he was in the shower. Shortly after 8:00 am he left the house, bought coffee and sandwiches on the way, and five minutes before 9:00 am he sat at his desk in the editorial office. His colleagues were astonished. He wouldn’t tell them the real reason for his new work zeal. But one thing was certain: he would be there when she, Claire, would call the office. Jamie couldn’t wait.


	12. Help, I met somebody! (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday morning goes completely different for Jamie than expected ...

“Liebe” by [Takmeomeo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fh%25C3%25A4nde-liebe-paar-zusammen-finger-437968%2F&t=NWY4YjBkYzJmM2ZkN2Q0N2QzNTA5MzkyOWRjMGEyMjJlN2ZmYjhmMixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

Still in the night Katja and Claire talked about the experiences of the evening. Katja thought that the fact that Jamie didn’t want Claire to give a mobile number could only mean that he was married. But Claire didn’t believe it. To her, ‘the guy’ had made a very 'old-fashioned righteous impression’. Katja’s 'Story of the Evening’ was not quite as positive. Bernd, the new lover, had still not separated from his wife to be with her. Claire had long suspected that this affair of Katja would end with heartbreak. Again. Her girlfriend always picked the wrong guys with absolute accuracy. In the foreseeable future, they would spend a long weekend in front of the TV, stuffing ice and chips into themselves and watching Love Movies in a continuous loop. Katja would cry and Claire would hand her tissues and comfort her. It had always been that way and it would most likely be that way this time. Claire was sure of that. Despite this gloomy hunch, the rest of the evening, or rather the early night, was quite relaxed. While they had told each other the experiences of the evening, Katja and Claire had emptied several bottles of beer. When they finally sunk into their beds at 2:00 am, they fell asleep immediately.

“Berlin -U-Bahnstation Alexander-Platz” by [AndyLeungHK](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Falexanderplatz-berlin-deutschland-2662043%2F&t=NjA0YzVmYWZiZjBmODk3Mjc1NWU2ZDgzMDY1NjBhOWQ0Y2YwM2EwOSxXSXYwYlo3RQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188818553140%2Fbeing-yours-12-help-i-met-somebody-2&m=1)

When Jamie walked down the stairs to the subway the next morning, as usual, it happened. The misfortune. The misfortune that would almost cost him his new love and thus his rediscovered joy of life. In the morning crowd of all the people hurrying to the subway, somebody bumped into him and at that moment Jamie dropped his new smartphone. It fell right in front of the feet of a homeless beggar who picked it up immediately and stuck it in her coat. Jamie stood in front of the woman, stunned and with his mouth open. For a moment they looked at each other silently, then he said:

“That’s mine!”

“No,” the woman replied unrelatedly.

Jamie neither had the nerve to engage in a long conversation nor was he in the mood to haggle. So he said:

“Ok. I need _this smartphone_. You can have whatever you want, but I need _this smartphone_!”

The woman looked at him, then she looked at his new sneakers.

“Sportschuhe” by [pasja1000](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fzwei-sportschuhe-l%25C3%25B6wenzahn-pflanze-4101314%2F&t=ZGRkZjE4YzgzODQzZjdiM2Q2NThhZGFhOTJmZWIxNTEzMDVlZTc2YyxXSXYwYlo3RQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188818553140%2Fbeing-yours-12-help-i-met-somebody-2&m=1)

  
  


30 minutes later Jamie was sitting at his desk in the editorial office of the 'Berliner Beobachter’, only with (dirty) stockings on his feet. He typed lines into his computer like a berserk. Claire’s text messages flowed through his fingers into the keyboard. One by one he entered into a new Word document. Suddenly Charlotta appeared.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked annoyed.

“Don’t ask,” Jamie replied, equally annoyed.

“The meeting has been going on forever, when are you coming?” the secretary asked.

“I’ll be ready in a minute!”

"How did the interview with Henriette Boot go?

"Good!”

"So sh*t? Do you at least have a layout or something else we can show Setzmann?”

"Yes, I did some research. Wait.”

Jamie clicked on another Word document and pressed the command “Print”. Behind him, with the usual sound, the printer signaled that a document was ready. Charlotta grabbed it and walked away. Jamie opened the bottom drawer of his desk, in which he (fortunately!) had stowed a pair of spare shoes. He put on his shoes and followed Charlotta into the large meeting room, where the rest of the staff had already gathered. Setzmann held the document that Charlotta had given him and quoted from it, while all the colleagues present rolled their eyes and grimaced:

“He did not kiss like you. He did not touch me like you. He did not smell like you. And now the emptiness is much greater, my desire for you much stronger, the longing hurts.”

Setzmann paused for a moment. Then he asked:

"What is this, _Fraser?_ Is that all you have to report about Henriette Boot at the moment?”

A muffled giggling of the colleagues became audible.

"N .. no, the … these are lyrics, new lyrics she sent me in advance. That … that’s from the new album,” Jamie replied with a bright red head.

Setzmann looked at him, but only asked:

“Is there anything else?”

Jamie handed him the - now correct - document of his research. Setzmann looked over the pages and then said:

”Drucker” by [stevepb](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fdrucker-schreibtisch-b%25C3%25BCro-fax-790396%2F&t=NmIzOGMzMTZhYmFmN2ZjMTE4ZjkzYzdjNGEzOWQ3NGMyYzVhMjNmOSxXSXYwYlo3RQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188818553140%2Fbeing-yours-12-help-i-met-somebody-2&m=1)  
  
  


"Well, this could be something. Keep going … and we’ll all see each other here tomorrow.“

Setzmann knocked briefly on the table, then he left the room and returned to his office. Before one of the colleagues could make a gloating remark, Jamie grabbed the "lyrics” and hurried out of the room as well. Jason and Charlotta followed him on his feet.

“Why are you printing the messages?” Jason asked.

“I didn’t want to print them at all,” Jamie replied.

“That’s full of romance,” Charlotta said unasked.

“Man! I have almost lost my new smartphone and I thought … Oh, it doesn’t matter!”

Jamie was annoyed, but Charlotta didn’t give in:

"What then?”

“Man, those messages mean a lot to me because they touch me. I don’t want to lose them! I want to keep them! Ok?!”

Jamie was angry. He let himself fall on his desk chair. Jason was also in a rage.

"Delete them, it’s gross that you always read along when she writes to someone else” he yelled at Jamie. Then his eyes fell on Jamie’s desk and on a stone lying there.

“What is this anyway,” asked Jason and grabbed the stone. But Jamie was faster, snatched the rose quartz from the desk and said:

“That’s a healing stone.”

“A 'Healing Stone’” Jason asked in complete amazement and was about to start a long tirade about esoteric nonsense when Jamie’s phone rang. As the two men were busy with the stone, Charlotta answered the call:

“Telefon” by [ElasticComputeFarm](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Ftelefon-technischer-support-cisco-1223310%2F&t=M2FjYmQ4MzU3NDQ5ZDZlN2FjY2VhMmRiYmU0NjAxNzgxZjNjMjU3OCxXSXYwYlo3RQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188818553140%2Fbeing-yours-12-help-i-met-somebody-2&m=1)

  
  


“Berliner Beobachter, desk James Fraser. Who may I connect?”

Then she turned to Jamie:

“_Mrs. Beauchamp?_”

Jamie, still annoyed by what happened this morning, replied:

“I don’t know her.”

Jason looked at him alarmed and hit him on the head with a newspaper he had been carrying under his arm.

“No, wait!” Jamie shouted now as if struck by lightning. Then he whispered excitedly:

“Don’t hang up! Don’t hang up!”

Charlotta grinned at him. Then she spoke into the receiver:

"Wait a minute, I’ll see if I can put you through.”

Turning to Jamie, she asked:

“Who is _she?_”

“Claire!”

“That’s _Claire_?”

Jamie nodded.

“Wait a minute, Mrs. Beauchamp, I’ll put you through,” Charlotta was singing into the receiver. Then she passed it on to Jamie. He swallowed, then he said:

“Yes. Hello, Mrs. Beauchamp. Nice of you to call.”

  
  
“Küchentisch” by [JillWellington](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Ffr%25C3%25BChst%25C3%25BCck-tisch-k%25C3%25BCchentisch-3694120%2F&t=YTFhNTZmNjBmYWI3NTI0YTc3YjkwZWJmNTAxZWU3ZmM3NmRmYmRjZCxXSXYwYlo3RQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188818553140%2Fbeing-yours-12-help-i-met-somebody-2&m=1)

  
Meanwhile, Claire sat on the bench in Katja’s kitchen and held her smartphone to her left ear. Katja sat next to her and followed the conversation.

“Yes. Hello. This is … Claire Beauchamp.”

Suddenly, Claire couldn’t think of anything else. Katja waved her right hand, making clear for Claire to keep talking.

“We … we know each other from the opera,” was all Claire could think of at that moment.

Jamie didn’t know exactly what to say and looked at Jason and Charlotta questioningly. Charlotta, listening to the conversation on another phone, waved her right hand around in circles, indicating to keep the conversation going.

“So you are … a friend of the opera?” Jamie asked, only to get a frustrated look from Charlotta and Jason.

“Um… honestly, not at all,” Claire replied.

“Yes, nice. Very, very nice,” Jamie said. Again, Charlotta waved with her hand to keep the conversation going.

“That … that’s what they’ve been saying since Pep Guardiola,” Jamie answered.

"Pep … Guardiola?” Claire asked back.

“The soccer coach, he talks like that,” Jamie replied.

Claire didn’t know what to say.

Meanwhile, Charlotta had written the word _“dinner”_ in large letters on a piece of paper and held it out to Jamie.

He asked “Uh, are you eating?” into the receiver, but corrected himself immediately: “I don’t mean general … but special. I mean … with me. Would you have dinner …?”

Claire was petrified. But Katja gave her a push in the ribs:

“Uh … yes, of course. Do you like currywurst?”

Katja rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Very, very much,” Jamie’s answer came through the receiver.

“Ok,” Claire said, “then we’ll meet at the Friedrichsbrücke and then we can go over to the 'Golden Hen? Do you know the pub?”

At that moment, Setzmann showed up at Jamie’s desk and asked:

“Why is everyone standing around watching you on the phone?”

Jamie didn’t want Claire to hear any embarrassing remarks from his boss and said briefly:

“Yes. Perfect. 6 pm. I’m happy too.”

Then he hung up the phone.

“Currywurst” by [planet_fox](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fcurrywurst-curry-ketschup-w%25C3%25BCrstchen-4108522%2F&t=OTBlMzA0N2M3MWExNGI2ZmJiYWNkZmQwYzQzNTE5OTNlZTA0MmEyOSxXSXYwYlo3RQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188818553140%2Fbeing-yours-12-help-i-met-somebody-2&m=1)

What remained was a surprised Claire in Katja’s kitchen, still holding her phone to her ear.

“Ok. See you then,” she said, although Jamie had already hung up.

Claire took the device from her ear, put it on the table and looked at Katja in amazement.

“Ok,” said the girlfriend, “You just figured out a normal date? Without LoveTool or other apps? Just like that? A bio-date, all organic? Everything natural? Wicked one!”

She nodded at Claire in admiration.

"He was _very strange_,” Claire said.

“Strange is good,” Katja assured.

_“Why?”_

“Strange means nervous, nervous means interested!”

Katja knocked on the table three times.

“That’s good!”

In the editorial office of the Berliner Beobachter, Setzmann was still standing in front of Jamie’s desk. In his hands, he held the research paper about Henriette Boot that Jamie had given him.

"Excuse me,” Jamie said, “that was very unprofessional.”

“Yes, yes, don’t worry. Do you have a moment?”

"Uh, not really, I would have to go n…”

“Where do you need to go?”

Ten minutes later Jamie was sitting in Setzmann’s dark blue Mercedes SL and was driven to his apartment by his boss. He tried to loosen up the ride with a conversation:

“The Henriette Boot story is going very well. Very, very well.”

But Setzmann ignored him completely:

“I have a problem with my girlfriend. She is an extraordinary woman … but very complicated. I don’t open up enough, she says. But even if I open myself tremendously and look deep into myself, there’s not much there. I am who I am. Without great word garlands … you, on the other hand … that is _a real grand opera_ you perform!”

Jamie swallowed, then he said:

"Well, those were just lyrics …”

“We both know that’s not true,” Setzmann replied, holding out his smartphone to Jamie.

“All right, is your girlfriend more like a flower or a cactus that needs more water,” Jamie asked, trying frantically to remember other statements from Charlotte’s self-help blogs.

Setzmann looked at him enthusiastically:

“You’re asking the right questions, _Fraser!_ You must be _my Cyrano!_ Write down ten, no better twenty of these messages!”

_"Your Cyrano?”_ asked Jamie in disbelief.

“Yes,” answered Setzmann, “my Cyrano. Believe me, Fraser, I don’t like to ask you. But I think that my girlfriend urgently needs such a sign from me now. So, here we are.”

“Friedrichsbrücke - Berlin” by [maxgreene  
](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fupload.wikimedia.org%2Fwikipedia%2Fcommons%2Fe%2Fe2%2FBerlinerDom_mit_Friedrichsbruecke.jpg&t=MGUwYTJiMGZjZDVjZTNlYTk5YTlmY2M2MjczMzNmOGQwNzQwNTMzMSxXSXYwYlo3RQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188818553140%2Fbeing-yours-12-help-i-met-somebody-2&m=1)[CC BY-SA 3.0 ([http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fcreativecommons.org%2Flicenses%2Fby-sa%2F3.0%2F&t=MzJkM2UzN2M0NjFhZDRlYmQzZjY2ODE5MDVlZjBmNTdhZDcyYzZmZSxXSXYwYlo3RQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188818553140%2Fbeing-yours-12-help-i-met-somebody-2&m=1))]

Jamie promised to write twenty “of these messages” for Setzmann in the next few days, then he got out of the car.  
James Fraser hurried across the street towards his apartment. He had to take a shower. He had to put on fresh clothes (and above all, other shoes!). Then he had to get a little present for Claire and then he had to leave and go to Friedrichsbrücke. He only had a few hours left. In a few hours, he would meet her. Claire. **_Love_ _was only a few hours away._ **


	13. Meeting at the Friedrichsbrücke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire met for the first time - alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for posting this chapter only now. A bereavement in my circle of friends has taken a lot of time.

“Liebe” by [Takmeomeo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fh%25C3%25A4nde-liebe-paar-zusammen-finger-437968%2F&t=NWY4YjBkYzJmM2ZkN2Q0N2QzNTA5MzkyOWRjMGEyMjJlN2ZmYjhmMixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

The preparation for the meeting with Claire went better than Jamie had thought. He showered and shaved. Then he picked one of the three suits he had recently picked up from the dry cleaning. Right underneath stood the matching (and above all polished!) shoes. Secretly, he thanked Fiona, who had always driven him to have his things in order and ready to hand. He had hated that, but just now her possessiveness with “the order of everything” was paying off. So: Thanks, Fiona!

Jamie looked at himself in the mirror. It all seemed ok. He looked neither too casual nor too overdressed. After some back and forth he decided against the tie and left the first button of the shirt open. Now all he had to do was dry his hair. Jamie had enough time and decided not to use a hairdryer.  
He took a seat on the sofa in the living room and grabbed his smartphone, then dialed Setzmann’s number and started writing messages to his boss. While he was in the shower, he had thought of some things with which he could fulfill his Cyrano job. Jamie had to smile. Taking a shower was always good for him. The feeling he experienced when warm water flowed over his tense body! The shower was one of the few places where he could really relax … and where the best ideas came to him. Half an hour later not only was his hair dry, but he had also sent the first five “Cyrano”-messages to Setzmann. Jamie took a deep breath and stretched his legs. A feeling of satisfaction and joy spread through him.  
Then he thought of Claire. He wondered what she was doing right now. Would she prepare for this evening in a similar way? Was she as excited as he was? He didn’t know it and before he sank into a whirlpool of thoughts, in which he imagined the most different possibilities figuratively, he put an end to the question. It was time to get a little present for Claire. He stood up, put on his coat and left the apartment.

“Evening atmosphere Berlin Cathedral with Friedrichsbrücke in the foreground”  
* Photo: By maxgreene - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0,  
[https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=916747](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fcommons.wikimedia.org%2Fw%2Findex.php%3Fcurid%3D916747&t=ZTFjMzM2NzRkZGQ3ZWY4Y2EzOTE1NTc2MTVjOTRmMTY5MGFmY2QzMSxNbXlhZUx5ag%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188999914050%2Fbeeing-yours-13-meeting-at-the-friedrichsbr%25C3%25BCcke&m=1)  
  


Half an hour later, it was just 5 p.m., Jamie reached the subway station from where he wanted to take a train to the Friedrichsbrücke. It was a short distance. 13 minutes later he would be there. He planned to walk quietly up the stairs of the underground station and over to the Friedrichsbrücke. From the highest point of the bridge, he would be able to oversee the whole area up to Museum Island and exactly when Claire arrived at the other end of the bridge. But then the unexpected happened. Well, for Berliners like Jamie it wasn’t really unexpected, it was everyday life. Through the loudspeaker system, a friendly woman’s voice announced that the train would be delayed indefinitely. Normally Jamie didn’t mind. In Berlin, late buses and trains were simply a part of daily life. But just today, just today it was not allowed to happen! Jamie reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his smartphone and was about to call Claire as it drove hot through him:

_“Fraser! You are an idiot! You don’t have a mobile! And she never gave you her number either!”_

He set the phone to flight mode, then put it in his pocket.

What could he do now? He could jog to the Friedrichsbrücke. That would be possible, but he didn’t want to come to his first official meeting with Claire sweaty. So he sprinted up the stairs from the subway to the street and from there to a nearby taxi point. But exactly when he arrived there, the two taxis that had stood there drove away! It took a whole ten minutes for another taxi to pass by. Jamie waved it in, got in and told the driver where he wanted to go. Actually, a car ride to the Friedrichsbrücke should not have taken long, but in the meantime, the evening traffic had started and began to clog the streets of the German capital. Jamie became more and more nervous from minute to minute.

However, the excitement that had taken possession of him did not subside when the taxi driver dropped him off at the Friedrichsbrücke at 5.55 p.m., almost on time. The excitement increased. Now he would see her immediately. Claire. Provided she hadn’t changed her mind. Slowly he walked up the bridge. When he stood on her apex, he saw her: She was sitting in an old light blue Audi. Jamie paused. He took a deep breath and looked at her again. At that moment Claire also saw him. He had to smile and he knew at that moment he had lost his heart. Completely and forever. As if in a trance, he went down the other side of the bridge and headed towards the car. Claire opened the door and got out.

“Hi,” she said and smiled at Jamie.

“Hi,” was all he could say.

They looked at each other for a moment, then Jamie said:

“That’s a pretty big car.”

“Oh well, yeah,” Claire replied, “it doesn’t really belong to me either.”

She didn’t want to tell Jamie that the light blue Audi was the former second car of her late fiancé, Frank.

"Shall we go?” she asked.

Jamie nodded and so, coming from the parking lot, they bent into the colonnade corridor of the courtyard of the Alte Nationalgalerie, whose ceiling lighting was already switched on at that time. To his surprise, they were alone all the way across the Museum Island. Jamie felt like in a dream. He walked next to the most beautiful woman he had just fallen in love with, through one of the most romantic corners of this city and no one, really no one or nothing was disrupting his peace.

“Arcade Alte Nationalgalerie Berlin” * Photo by Thomas Wolf,  
[https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=30695550,](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fcommons.wikimedia.org%2Fw%2Findex.php%3Fcurid%3D30695550%2C&t=ODY4YWIzNjRhYTIyOTczNjY3NzNhOWEwN2U4ZmE4YzQ4NjNjOTAzOSxNbXlhZUx5ag%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188999914050%2Fbeeing-yours-13-meeting-at-the-friedrichsbr%25C3%25BCcke&m=1)  
CC BY-SA 3.0 de, [www.foto-tw.de](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.foto-tw.de&t=MzQyY2I0OTJjMjVmNGJiMGYwMjkzMDdhZDBjMjE0ZjgxMjFlYmM4ZSxNbXlhZUx5ag%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188999914050%2Fbeeing-yours-13-meeting-at-the-friedrichsbr%25C3%25BCcke&m=1)  
  


“I hope it was okay that I just called you like that?”

“Yes! No! Totally! I … I … just felt a little … observed there,’ it shot out of him.

Claire looked at him in wonder.

"Ok. … Ok … and why?”

“Oh, newspaper editors,” Jamie tried to appease and added: “They are all totally curious. That must probably be job-related…”

“Ok,” Claire said.

They walked, almost in step, a few meters further through the colonnades. Then she asked:

“You’re writing for the Berliner Beobachter?”

Jamie nodded.

“I always read the Sunday edition. Once through, from front to back. Well, except for the sports section, of course!”

She giggled, Jamie stared forward on the way and swallowed.

Claire stopped and looked at Jamie in dismay:

"Oh no! You … You write about for the sport … that …”

“Yes, exactly. But that’s not so bad!”

_“Great,” Claire thought, “right at the first meeting and at the first real conversation you trampled into the thickest fat bowl! Beauchamp, pull yourself together!”_

Shortly afterward they reached the "Golden Hen” and twenty minutes later they poked around in the remains of their “Currywurst, Fries and Salad” plate. The mood was depressed and somehow there was no real conversation to get going. Jamie couldn’t think of anything else but to go to the toilet for a moment. There he stood in front of the mirror and spoke to himself:

_“Ok James, it’s a lie, she doesn’t know anything and she never will, but that’s fine. You can’t help it and you don’t do anything bad! Come down! Calm down!”_

Jamie picked up his smartphone and put it on reception again. He guessed Claire would be texting and was burning to know what she thought about him. It took some time for him to receive a signal, but then the device reported the arrival of two new messages:

_ “He is …”_

“Yeah, yeah, how am I?” Jamie thought.

_“… really strange.”_

“F*ck!”

_“Fraser!” he said to himself, “Pull yourself together! Only twenty meters away, the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen sits at a table waiting for you! Now or never!”_

He washed his hands, then he went back to their table.

After sitting down, he smiled at her and said:

"Ok, I would like to rewind. I had my last date when I was 16 or so … And then I was sitting next to the girlfriend of the girl I actually meant, but my boyfriend had placed me there because he had misunderstood me. Long story, also not so exciting … ”

He sighed and blushed.

"Oh God, it’s starting again! It’s like watching myself go down,” he said desperately.

“Restaurant” by Free-Photos

  
Claire smiled at him.

“What did you do?”

_“What?”_

“With the girl?”

“Oh, I finally told her.”

“That’s really not such an exciting story,’ Claire admitted but didn’t stop smiling.

Jamie shrugged his shoulders and looked at her resignedly.

"But the story is honest and honesty is good.”

He looked at Claire and a little spark of hope began to burn in his heart.

“You probably sit on a date with people you didn’t mean most of the time,” Claire said.

“When do you think you know that?” Jamie asked straight out.

Now Claire shrugged her shoulders.

“Probably only at the end.”

"Well, then I still have a little time,” Jamie replied and Claire couldn’t help but smile. The guy became more likable with every moment passing. His remarkable body she had already noticed in the opera and yes, she had to admit that his outward appearance had impressed her. But after everything she had experienced, she had decided to focus more on other qualities. If James Fraser was really as honest as he now seemed, it was a good start despite all his _strangeness_.

Twenty minutes later they had left the pub and walked along the Spree. Jamie had told her about his boss’s mission to be ‘his personal Cyrano’.

“Cyrano,” she asked, “Isn’t that the one with the special nose?”

“Yes, exactly,” Jamie replied, “the one who writes love letters for such a handsome idiot.”

“Will she find out the truth or is she still with that stupid pretty boy at the end?”

“No, she finds it out, but Cyrano dies.”

_“He dies?”_ Claire asked shocked.

“Yeah, our ancestors weren’t so fond of Romantic Comedy.”

Without noticing, Claire had put her fingers around her engagement ring. Jamie looked surprised at her hands.

“Oh, sorry. I … I should have taken it off, but, … but … now may not be the right time … to come with the sledgehammer … like this: Hello, I’m the one with the dead fiancé! But … but I mean … somehow it’s like that and I can’t change it … and maybe it’s better if you know right away … Well, my fiancé isn’t alive anymore.”

Jamie looked at her concerned, unable to say anything. How he would have loved to have taken her in his arms, stroked her back and kissed her forehead. But they hadn’t known each other long enough. Finally, Claire saved the tricky situation with a question:

“Do you like riverboats?”

“Ship” by emkanicepic

  
Jamie smiled and nodded.

“Well, then let’s go for a ride with the night steamer on the Spree!”

They strolled along the Spree for some time until they reached the point where the ships were waiting. They recognized the night steamer already from afar by the small multicolored light balls, which were attached on the right and on the left at the railing of the ship.

After they had bought the tickets and boarded the ship, they sat down at the far end of the deck. Shortly afterward the ship started. Slowly they glided past the illuminated buildings of the Museum Island, looked into the night sky and then at each other.

“I brought you something, by the way,” Jamie suddenly said and reached into his coat pocket. From it, he pulled out a brown paper bag, as they were used by vegetable and fruit merchants to pack their goods. He handed Claire the bag, which she looked at in amazement. She took and opened it.

“You brought me Mirabelle plums!”

“Hmmm.”

“I love Mirabelle plums!”

“That’s what I thought!”

Jamie shone all over her face.

“Reichstag Berlin at Night” by sebastianheitzmann95

Claire reached into the bag, took out a Mirabelle plum and wiped it off with a paper handkerchief. Then she stuck the Mirabelle in her mouth and began to chew. She sighed. She would have preferred to shove the next Mirabelle into her mouth. But she didn’t want to be so rude. She held out the bag to Jamie, who reached in, took out a Mirabelle, wiped it off and began to eat.

“Tasty, isn’t it?”

“Super!

It didn’t take long and they sat there with several seeds in their hands. Claire had to laugh and her laughter was contagious as a virus. Jamie also had to laugh. The ice was broken.

"Ingenious. A steamboat ride with Mirabelle plums!”

Claire couldn’t answer, she still had to laugh.

As the steamship then drove past the TV tower, she said:

“I’m not going to bet spit with you now!”

“Why not?”

It wasn’t a question, it was a challenge, and if Claire Beauchamp couldn’t resist one thing, it was such a challenge. Seconds later they stood at the back railing.

“One, two, three,” said Jamie and as if on command, they spat their seeds into the Spree. Each core was followed by a new salve of laughter.

Claire wished this night would never end. Not only did this man seem to be honest, but he had also actually managed to make her laugh again. Yes, he may have been a little timid, not a daredevil, but honest, solid, down-to-earth. And he was present. He really was present. He was there. It was not, as with … Frank. Frank had spoken to her and yet she had always had the feeling that he wasn’t really there, not really present. In his mind, Frank always seemed to be somewhere else and Claire never knew where it was. She only knew that he wasn’t really with her. Jamie, on the other hand, was there. Right in the “here and now”. All with her. And she didn’t complain about his presence. At the moment when the ice broke between them, when he had overcome his fears and when she had overcome her fears, they had met each other. Really met. And now it was so easy to walk together. So light and easy.

“Berlin - Museum Island at Night” by jplenio  
  


It was already 10.30 p.m. when they arrived back at the steamship’s berth. They got off and walked along the Spree again. It was as if they had reached an unspoken, secret agreement. Neither of them would go home that night. The feeling of having found each other, of having really met each other, was so present. Neither of them wanted to lose it or even miss it for a moment. Once more they strolled across the museum island, stopped on a park bench, talked about this and that, strolled on to the next park bench, sat down and started talking again. When they arrived at some point on the other side of the island, they found a [“Späti”](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wiktionary.org%2Fwiki%2FSp%25C3%25A4ti&t=MmU1ODA5ZGRjMDIxZmI3YmQ1ZWU3YzlkNjI4YTE3MDQxOTM5N2FhNSxNbXlhZUx5ag%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F188999914050%2Fbeeing-yours-13-meeting-at-the-friedrichsbr%25C3%25BCcke&m=1) which was still open, bought drinks and sweets and started walking across the museum island again. They sat down in a corner of the colonnades from where they could see the Spree and the illuminated buildings and continued their conversation. Secretly Claire was amazed again and again. James Fraser seemed really interested in what she was telling him. He asked questions, asked interested detail questions, and every now and then he just looked at her in amazement. Frank had hardly done that. If they had talked to each other, then the 'conversation’ had mostly ended in a monologue by 'Dr. Randall’. She couldn’t remember the last time she had had such a conversation with another person. A conversation, so full of depth and yet full of wit. A conversation that did not exhaust her soul, but nourished it. Claire wished nothing more than that this state would last forever.


	14. A new day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire talk until the next morning and even then they can not part ...

“Liebe” by [Takmeomeo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fh%25C3%25A4nde-liebe-paar-zusammen-finger-437968%2F&t=NWY4YjBkYzJmM2ZkN2Q0N2QzNTA5MzkyOWRjMGEyMjJlN2ZmYjhmMixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

They had talked and talked and completely forgotten time. At some point, they set off again and strolled through the district. They were discussing whether there was only visible reality or anything beyond when they walked under a bridge overpass. Jamie insisted that there was only the reality one saw. Claire, on the other hand, disagreed. She pointed out that "all physics is based on particles that cannot be explained”.

"Oh, that's how it always starts: At first you say that you can't explain it to yourself and in the end, you walk through the room clapping to drive away bad energies."

Jamie had the encounter with Henriette Boot in her hotel suite still vividly before his eyes.

"I don't think you're as rational as you think," Claire disagreed and smiled.

They remained silent for a moment, then she resumed the conversation:

"For a fanatic of evidence you are much too ..."

“... good looking?” Jamie finishes the sentence. A grin became visible on his face.

"No, but too funny," Claire said, involuntarily thinking how true that statement was. This man had really managed to make her laugh again. She felt comfortable, almost light, at his side.

"Well, that’s something - at least,' Jamie said.

Again he had to smile. When they came to the exit of the underpass, they met a street musician who was playing waltz melodies on his keyboard.

"Look," he said quietly, "this place is really romantic!"

"There's no such thing as romance," Claire said, "because you can't see romance."

Jamie grabbed her hand, pulled her to himself and started dancing with her along the rest of the underpass.

"Yes, there is romance and you can see it!"

“Berlin / Himmel” by [Morgengry](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fberlin-sonne-himmel-deutschland-4214092%2F&t=Y2E0MzY1MGUzNTkyYzE2NWUwZTU4MjIyZTM5NTIyOGNkMjNkNTk2Yixyd3V2dklvbg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F189153717295%2Fdein-sein-14-ein-neuer-tag&m=1)

Half an hour later, the sun was already rising, they were sitting on a concrete ledge at a jetty on the Spree.

"Why do you always ask such funny questions?" Jamie wanted to know.

"Oh", Claire said, "Dating is something so completely unnatural."

Then she stretched her arms and legs.

"Ooooh! I am so tired. And I have an appointment with my publisher in ninety minutes!"

Jamie looked at her and had to smile again.

"Wish me luck!" Claire demanded and added: "I don't want to go to Darmstadt."

"I don't understand a word," Jamie admitted, "but I don't want you to go to Darmstadt either. Because then I would have to go to Darmstadt too.”

Claire smiled, but before she could say anything, Jamie rose:

"I'll take you there."

Claire also rose slowly and together they went side by side along the Spree. On their way to the publishing house, they stopped at a Cafe where they bought two large espressos "to go".

“Espresso” by [sonerkose](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fkaffee-cappuccino-latte-espresso-4334647%2F&t=NzBhNjAxZmQwNTYxMDA1MGYzYThiOWZmYmU5YThiOTg4YTE3YTYxNSxyd3V2dklvbg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F189153717295%2Fdein-sein-14-ein-neuer-tag&m=1)

  
Claire Beauchamp walked through the door of Gudrun Spitzer's office punctually at 8.30 am. She had the feeling that for the first time she could imagine how it felt for the French Queen Marie-Antoinette to walk the scaffold. But what she then experienced in the office of her boss should mock all her gloomy suspicions.

Gudrun Spitzer greeted Claire exuberantly, embraced her and called her "My favorite author".

"Well, is that a day to hug the world?" asked the older woman then and before Claire could answer anything, Gudrun Spitzer had hugged her again and pressed a kiss on her right cheek.

"Sit down!"

The publisher almost pushed Claire to the chair in front of her desk, radiating from both cheeks like a child who had just unpacked the long-awaited Christmas present.

"Well, how are you?" she asked then.

"Well," Claire replied, "honestly, the day for me depends a lot on how I get out of here today."

"Oh, that's what I thought. I noticed right away that I put too much pressure on you the last time. You can't force the muse like that, can you?"

Again Gudrun Spitzer smiled broadly over the whole face.

"You have all the time in the world, I'll give you another whole week! Nobody can be creative under pressure! You know that, don't you?”

There was no end to Claire’s amazement. Where was the tough businesswoman? Gudrun Spitzer answered this question immediately by herself:

"Come on, Claire. There are many more important things in life. Look ..."

The publisher handed Claire her smartphone, which showed a text message.

_"With you, autumn in Berlin is like summer in Paris. Next to you, I become like a child playing in the grass, every blade a world and everything fresh and new and forever. Above you_ ... oh, maybe I shouldn't read that."

Claire blushed slightly, but then immediately turned to the radiant Gudrun Spitzer:

"Tell me! Who writes such verses for you?"

"A bone-dry journalist! And I didn't believe he had so much poetry in him!"

The publisher was laughing and grinning. Shortly afterward she said goodbye to Claire and turned to her smartphone and e-cigarette again, giggling like a young teenager in love.

Jamie had waited nearby and in the meantime bought a bag of croissants and two more strong coffees "to go". Claire came to meet him, beaming with joy.

“Croissants” by [Photowill](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fcroissants-erdbeere-brot-essen-s%25C3%25BC%25C3%259F-4077817%2F&t=MDU4YTkyYmU2OGE2ZGVhZGU1MGY2ZmEyNTg5ZTAyNDNiZjUwYjIzOSxyd3V2dklvbg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F189153717295%2Fdein-sein-14-ein-neuer-tag&m=1)

"I don't have to go to Darmstadt!"

"That's good, I like Berlin" he answered. Then he asked:

"What is the reason?"

"Oh, that has to do with feelings, love and such. Nothing for you. Because you can't see it."

Claire grabbed the croissant that Jamie had been holding out on her.

"I don't understand," he said with a smile.

"You see, I knew that!”

After Claire had told Jamie about the conversation with her boss, they decided to go shopping and then to Katja's apartment. Meanwhile, Jamie had taken a day off by telephone. He wouldn't even have been able to be productive in the editorial office in his state after this night. Claire had suggested cooking something to eat and so their next way led them to a supermarket. While Claire talked about what and how she wanted to cook, Jamie was all smiles inside. Who would have thought that his Cyrano job could have such an impact? And the nicest thing of all was that Claire hadn't even noticed the connection! Jamie didn't intend to change that.

In the supermarket, they strolled down the aisles, put this and that in their shopping carts and smiled at each other. When Claire had just put a pack of cookies in the cart, she saw him:

“Einkauf” by [Alexas_Fotos](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Feinkaufen-gesch%25C3%25A4ft-einzelhandel-1165437%2F&t=NWYxNzExNDQ0NzVlOTAyNzk2MzI0Y2U4MTU3MzlhNjllOWFkMTE2NSxyd3V2dklvbg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F189153717295%2Fdein-sein-14-ein-neuer-tag&m=1)

  
Jonathan Black. He was one of those Germans who worked for the British Embassy. To make matters worse, he had also been a good friend of Frank. Claire had never liked him. He was a disgusting, slimy guy who was called "Black Jack" by everyone, which wasn't always meant positively. But now Jonathan Black came up to her, radiant with joy, spread his arms and squeeze Claire tightly and unasked. Jamie had heard her whisper:

"Ouch no! Why must we meet him!"

Then he saw her tortured face.

"Hello, Claire!" Jonathan shouted joyfully and then followed a whole barrage of small talk:

"You are back again! Nice to see you! How are you? You look good! You certainly still cry a lot. But it gets better! Every day a little bit! The will is your strongest muscle and in the end, only the beautiful memories remain anyway. It is, as my trainer says: Life is like drawing without erasers. I mean, at the end of the day such an experience only makes you stronger."

Claire was missing the words and she felt terrible. In Jamie, a rage had built up in the meantime, which he could only control with difficulty. He looked directly at Jonathan and said slowly and emphatically:

"You notice it yourself, don't you?"

Jonathan didn't seem to realize that in this situation he was more than liquid, he was superfluous.

"Huh? Why?"

Jamie looked at him again very directly and seriously.

"I think it's better if you leave _now!_"

Jonathan blushed, took a deep breath and only meant:

"Ok, sorry, then goodbye!”

He turned around and walked away angrily. Claire looked at Jamie and her face reflected the great relief and gratitude she felt inside. She couldn't help herself, stood on her toes, kissed the completely surprised Jamie on the cheek and said

"Thank you!"

Then she took the shopping cart that Jamie had carried along and that was still standing in front of him - and went on. Jamie looked after her surprised. Starting from his left cheeks, a pleasant feeling spread all over his body. So far he seemed to have done everything right. Everything, really everything seemed to be going well. Claire had already gone a few meters further with the shopping cart when he suddenly said:

"With pleasure, you're welcome!”

Then he followed her slowly and felt as if he was floating.

They paid for the groceries, Jamie took the food bag and Claire took his arm. Without a hurry, they went to Katja's apartment.

“Gemüse schneiden” by [ayeletphotography](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fschnitt-k%25C3%25BCche-kochen-schneiden-1123737%2F&t=YWNjYmYzMWJjM2ZlN2E0MzJhMjg3ZjE5MDc0NGYzN2ZiYjQ4MWQ5NSxyd3V2dklvbg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F189153717295%2Fdein-sein-14-ein-neuer-tag&m=1)

While Claire was preparing the food, Jamie leafed through Claire's books.

"Why doesn't the caterpillar Cate want to be a butterfly?" he asked towards the kitchen.

"Because she's happy. She's happy with what she is. And so she wants to experience as many things as possible. She doesn't need a slimmer waist and doesn't have to be more beautiful to feel good," Claire replied.

Jamie looked at the many dark and sad drawings that lay on Claire's desk. What could he say to cheer her up?

"Recently someone told me that the butterfly is a symbol of new life or a new beginning. Maybe that would be an idea for your caterpillar too," he said after a while, again towards the kitchen.

Claire paused. She almost cut her left thumb. What had Jamie just said? Did he know what he was talking about? This man was a gift from heaven! What an idea for a children's book! She couldn't believe it. She would have loved to kiss him again. But then the sound of the overboiling noodles brought back to reality.


	15. Nocturnal Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Clair spend another long day together. That night Jamie dreams and is rudely awakened. But this morning he has an idea how to help Claire.

“Liebe” by [Takmeomeo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fh%25C3%25A4nde-liebe-paar-zusammen-finger-437968%2F&t=NWY4YjBkYzJmM2ZkN2Q0N2QzNTA5MzkyOWRjMGEyMjJlN2ZmYjhmMixzaGN4VE9odQ%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125616690%2Fbeing-yours-1-back-to-the-future&m=1)

After dinner, they had decided to eat dessert on the balcony. Actually, it was still too cold to sit on the balcony at such a late hour. But they wrapped themselves in warm blankets and Claire lent Jamie one of her colorful knitted hats.

“It suits you,” she said with a grin as he pulled the cap over his red shock of hair.

“I know. I’ve been told to wear more _pink_.”

Once again a broad grin appeared on Claire’s face.

She reached for the dessert bowls and handed one of them to Jamie. Then they started to eat.

At some point during the evening, Jamie summoned up all his courage and whispered the question that was burning inside Claire:

"How … did … he … die?”

“Glienicker Brücke / Berlin im Winter” by [kgPo](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Fwinter-glienicker-br%25C3%25BCcke-potsdam-2497551%2F&t=YzJiMWJhMDcxOTc5NDM1MGY3ZmM0NDQ2NDEyNzY1Y2M4MDhlZGVjNCwzemQzNWhVcg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F187125546435%2Fdein-sein-1-zur%25C3%25BCck-in-die-zukunft&m=1)

“Car accident. Icy road. In the middle of the night.”

Jamie was silent and Claire understood that he wanted to give her the opportunity to say everything that needed to be said between them before they could go on together. She took a deep breath and gave herself a tug. Then she started to talk. First about her parents’ death, then about Uncle Lambert and finally about how she had met Frank. She talked about Frank’s work in the British Embassy, how and when they had moved in together and what their life together had been. Jamie listened carefully.

“Frank was not a perfect man,” she said thoughtfully, immediately adding, “Who is?”

After a short pause she continued:

“But in a way he made me feel safe.”

Thoughtfully she looked up into the dark evening sky.

“To be honest, I’ve always wanted a home. Uncle Lambert is a very nice person. I love him very much and owe him more than I can tell. But one day he will be gone. And Frank already let me know at one of our first meetings how much he wished for a family. We were united by that wish … but we were not allowed to have a family …”

Jamie heard Claire’s voice starting to tremble. Gently, he put his left hand on her right arm. It was time to change the subject.

“Did I tell you I’m going to interview the famous Jürgen Klopp? The Coach of FC Liverpool?”

“Fußball” by [jorono](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Ffu%25C3%259Fball-soccer-europe-europa-uefa-2698969%2F&t=MjY0Y2FjZDUyOGI4NWEyZGE3ZTkyMTljMzkxODI4YWFhNTJhNTI0YyxlQUtsOXBScA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190881133735%2Fdein-sein-15-gespr%25C3%25A4che-in-der-nacht&m=1)

His enthusiasm knew no bounds. He talked about Klopp, Liverpool FC, then came up with Lionel Messi and Neymar da Silva Santos Junior. Claire, who had never been very interested in football, could not stop smiling. She was fascinated by the almost childlike enthusiasm with which Jamie talked about football players, World Cups, goal scorers, and transfer payments. Had Frank ever been so passionate about anything? Slowly she let her right hand slide over the back of her chair and then carefully reached for Jamie’s hand. He smiled at her and put his hand around hers.

“It’s good to have you here,” she said.

Jamie smiled. Then he went on with his stories. As she listened to him, Claire wondered again, if Frank ever spoke about anything so passionately? And if James Fraser spoke so passionately about things that “only” had to do with his job, how much more would he_burn_ for the person he loved?

It was this thought that slowly put her to sleep. Jamie saw Claire slide her head more and more to her right side until her head was leaning on his shoulder. Carefully he turned to her, took her in both arms and lifted her out of the chair. Claire took a deep breath but did not wake up. Gently, Jamie carried her to her room, laid her on her bed and put the cover over her. He stood in front of her bed for a moment, then he made a decision. It was too late to go home now. In the kitchen, he had seen an old sofa. If he pulled his legs up a little, it would fit. For one night he could stand it. Jamie Fraser had slept on much worse materials. When it came to getting a good story as a young reporter, you’ve spent several nights in a car in front of an A-League player’s apartment or sleeping on two chairs pushed together in the gate of an airport. He took a pillow and a blanket that laid on one of the chairs in Claire’s room and sneaked away. He made himself as comfortable as possible on the sofa in the kitchen and fell asleep shortly afterward.

That night, James Fraser dreamed. Everything around him was dark and he didn’t know where he was. Then he heard a voice he didn’t know, saying strange things:

“Albtraum” by [KELLEPICS](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Ffantasie-geist-albtraum-traum-2847724%2F&t=NzFmYjQ3MDFlZDg0MDZiZDMzNzgwZjk2MWNkZWE4ZTNjYTBjMzY5MCxlQUtsOXBScA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190881133735%2Fdein-sein-15-gespr%25C3%25A4che-in-der-nacht&m=1)

“Yes, I don’t understand. What appointment? On Sunday morning? I’m sorry. I thought you were separated?”

The unknown voice became louder:

"What do you mean? You _practically_ broke up? Okay, look, don’t _ever_ _call me again!_ F*ck! Oh man, f*ck! F*ck you!”

Then it happened. A heavy load lowered itself on his stomach and on his chest and at the same moment, a woman started screaming at the top of her voice. Suddenly, the weight was lifted from him. Jamie, deeply frightened, jumped off the sofa and screamed out too. He had never felt more awake than he did at that moment. Then he saw a slim, black-haired woman standing before him holding a long, sharp kitchen knife in his direction.

“Who are you?!” cried the black-haired woman.

Jamie raised both hands, then he said:

“I’m … I’m … Jamie!”

“Jamie, Jamie, _Jamie_ _who?!_ I don’t know any Jamie!” cried the woman. Her eyes sparkled and James Fraser was convinced she would not hesitate for a minute to plunge the knife into his belly. But before he could answer, the woman screamed at him again:

_“Where’s Claire?!”_

Jamie, who was still standing by the sofa with his hands up, answered:

“She fell asleep … I didn’t want to intrude … I, I didn’t want to leave either …”

A grin spread across the face of the black-haired woman.

“Jamie!” she suddenly said very nicely and dropped the knife.

“Yes.”

“And she is… asleep?”

“Yes.”

Slowly Jamie lowered his hands.

“And then you sleep here on my sofa and I’ll sit on top of you.”

Katja smiled.

“Old-fashioned and righteous, I understand,” she said and nodded to him.

“I’m Katja, by the way. Hi, Jamie.”

“Hi.”

“Well, good night, then.”

“Night,” Jamie replied exhausted.

Katja, who had already turned away to go to her room, turned around once more:

“Oh, Jamie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any siblings? _Brothers?_”

_“What?”_

“It’s okay,” Katja answered and yawned.

“I didn’t mean to be pushy. Old-fashioned and upright. Ingenious.”

Katja turned around and left the astonished Jamie in the kitchen.

“Frühstück” by [congerdesign](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Ffr%25C3%25BChst%25C3%25BCck-fr%25C3%25BChst%25C3%25BCcken-br%25C3%25B6tchen-3871019%2F&t=ZGY4NjdhYjE2YTE2YjM5NGIzZTA3MWI4MGFlM2M0MDdiNWEyNzgyZixlQUtsOXBScA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190881133735%2Fdein-sein-15-gespr%25C3%25A4che-in-der-nacht&m=1)

When Claire came into the kitchen the next morning, Katja and Jamie were already sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee.

“Good morning,” they both said.

“Come sit with us. Jamie bought rolls.”

Claire hesitated for a moment.

“No, I don’t want to interrupt. I have to go. I have an appointment.”

Jamie and Katja looked at each other in wonder. Then they heard the apartment door slam shut.

While Jamie drove to the editorial office of the Berliner Beobachter, Claire steered Frank’s big car into the yard of a used car dealer’s. That night, when Frank had that fatal accident, he had taken the car, which the embassy provided for him. The large, dark blue Audi A8D3 had been standing in a garage on her uncle’s property for the past two years. Frank’s relatives had had no interest in the car. But for Claire, it had still been a kind of room where she felt close to Frank. But she knew only too well that she wasn’t ready for a new relationship if she held on to her past. She closed her eyes and smelled the steering wheel again. Tears ran down her face and she was grateful that no one could hear her desperate sobbing.

It was a normal day in Berlin and for James Fraser, this meant that the underground train was late as usual. When he was finally on a train that would take him towards the Berliner Beobachter, he heard his smartphone announce the arrival of a new message:

“The steering wheel no longer smells of you.”

he read. Then a new message came in:

“This was the last place where I felt near to you. I miss you so much. Come back.”

A feeling spread through Jamie’s stomach as if he had swallowed a cobblestone.

Thirty minutes later he was sitting at his desk and Charlotta was sitting opposite him.

“Why is it so difficult with you! _You have to tell her!_ _You can’t do that to her!_”

“Charlotta, I’m not difficult, _the situation is difficult._”

Suddenly Setzmann burst in between:

_“Where’s that article on Mrs. Boot?”_

“I have another interview with her tomorrow. and you’ll have the whole article the day after.”

“Good.”

Setzmann left without further comment.

“And how are you going _to settle this now?_” Charlotta asked.

“I’ll sort it out,” Jamie replied, reaching for his jacket first, then his bag and the next moment he was leaving the office.

  
“Tempodrom Berlin” by [Peggy_Marco](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Ftempodrom-berlin-konzert-halle-1029043%2F&t=MDlmZWNjODVmZDlhMjU1YTA3MDRkMDM0NjUwZTk0ZmYzOGRhNzgxYyxlQUtsOXBScA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190881133735%2Fdein-sein-15-gespr%25C3%25A4che-in-der-nacht&m=1)

Henriette Boot’s entire crew had gathered on stage at the Tempodrom at Anhalterbahnhof in Berlin Kreuzberg to rehearse the upcoming show. Jamie heard the singer’s unmistakable voice from afar. “Now I just want to be yours, I always want to be yours …” it sounded to him and as he entered the big hall the production manager just announced a break.

A butterfly costumed Henriette Boot came smiling at Jamie, looked at him with big eyes and said:

“What happened to you? You are beaming! You are standing! Slowly it comes! Isn’t it? Slowly it comes!”

She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to one side of the stage with her.

“How is your _mystery woman_?” Henriette Boot then asked quietly with a conspiratorial look.

“She is _no longer_ an unknown,” Jamie replied beaming.

“You have my complete attention, Mr. Fraser.”

“Unfortunately, this whole thing’s really freaking me out. She’s still hung up on her ex and… he’s dead.”

“Hmmm.”

Henriette Boot looked at him thoughtfully. Then she asked:

“Do you still have my stone?”

Jamie reached into his pocket and pulled out the semi-precious stone.

“Of course I still have your stone.”

Henriette reached for his hand and held it with hers.

“What’s her name?”

“Claire. Claire Beauchamp.”

“_The_ Claire Beauchamp? _The one with the caterpillar?_”

The singer giggled and shook herself.

  
“Rosenquarz” by [tmhabeer](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fphotos%2Frosenquarz-quarz-kugel-dekoration-422715%2F&t=MGRjMDA1YTJiYjU0ZDczOWRkMTBhNWFjYzFkMzA5ZjVjNzRkOWU5NyxlQUtsOXBScA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F190881133735%2Fdein-sein-15-gespr%25C3%25A4che-in-der-nacht&m=1)   
  


Jamie didn’t know what to make of this reaction but breathed a sigh of relief when Henriette admitted:

“I’ve had to read these books to my nieces and nephews countless times! These books are looooovely!”

“Well, that’s true … but something has to happen. Claire’s frustrated and lost interest in her work. She needs a new challenge. I … want her to stay with me.”

“Hmmm.”

“I know something, but it may be a bit much to ask …”

“I like it when men ask a lot,” answered Henriette Botts with a nonchalant smile.

“Come to my dressing room, Fraser. There we can discuss this in private.”

She got up and turned to go. As she did so, the wings of her costume wobbled as if the butterfly had been caught in a light autumn storm. Jamie shook his head and followed her.


End file.
